Shine As Bright
by mcfuz
Summary: Dominique has always been the odd one out in the Weasley clan. Follow her journey throughout Hogwarts as she struggles to come to terms with her family, her friends, her grades and her relationships. Will she be able to evolve into something more than just plain old Dom, or will she stay an outcast forever? COMPLETE.
1. Prologue: Expectations

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 1, Prologue: Expectations**

_Dominique's POV_

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><p>Pretty was not a word one used to describe me. When I had been born, it was expected that 'pretty' and 'beautiful' were the obvious words to say when talking about Dominique Weasley. After all, they were the words people used to talk about my sister. But as I grew up, it became clear that I would never be 'pretty'. As least, I would never be the stereotyped beautiful that came from having Veela blood in your veins. I would be the odd one out. The Weasley who wasn't pretty, who wasn't smart, who wasn't funny, who wasn't sporty, who wasn't mischievous. I would be the strange one- the dumb one, the quiet one, the hidden one that no-one ever paid attention to. But I got used to it.<p>

I was nothing like my family. My sister and mother shared the same intelligence and good looks- if my sister had been older, or my mother younger, they could've been twins. My brother, too, had an angelic quality about him- he had inherited both the trademark Veela hair and the Weasley freckles, and many people predicted that one day he'd be the most famous wizard historian since Bathilda Bagshot herself. My father had been clever, too, and brave and strong. But, once again, I was none of these qualities.

I was nothing like my cousins, either. I didn't have Lily's beautiful brown eyes, or Rose's gorgeous brown curls. I didn't have Lucy's brains, or Molly's outgoing personality, or Roxanne's humour. I was Dominique, the plain, shy, tomboy of the family, who never lived up to expectations. But that was alright for me- I had never known anything better.

I was the ugliest of the family. Well, I wasn't exactly _ugly_, but compared to the rest of the Weasley's and the Potter's, I was insignificant. Yes, my hair was a fiery red like many of my relatives', but it wasn't the sleek, shining ginger that they had. It was an insanely frizzy mane past my waist that I nearly always tucked up into my Muggle cricket cap, with an outrageous fringe that hung over my eyes and obscured most of my vision. But I liked it that way- at least I had something to hide behind. My eyes weren't the warm brown of my father's, or the piercing blue of my mother's. No, my eyes were an oddly colourless grey, and I had been told many times that they were often vacant and unfocused, as if behind them there was nothing but a big, empty space where my brain should have been. I wasn't built like my parents, either. My mother was tall and slender and curvy, my father lanky and muscled and strong. I was the shortest in my family, and I wasn't slim- I was skinny and bony and awkward. I was always knocking over things, but I didn't mind this- most people said that my clumsiness reminded them of Teddy's mother Tonks, and that she had been one of the bravest witches that they had ever known. So I was fine with being a klutz.

I was the dumbest of the family, too. And this time I mean it. Not even the simplest words of French seemed to lodge into my brain- it was as if my mind had sprung a leak somewhere, and that, one way or another, almost all of the knowledge inside it slithered out through the hole. I didn't have my sister's aptitude for Potions- nearly everything I concocted ended up blowing to bits in my face and singeing my eyebrows off. I wasn't skilled in Defence Against the Dark Arts, or Charms or Transfiguration. It was as if my wand didn't work properly, couldn't understand even the simplest spells. For Divination, I made up everything in the exams, and my crystal ball readings often involved lots of fog. Care of Magical Creatures was even worse- 10 Flobberworms died under my care, and that's saying something. I was the only person in the class to whom the Hippogriffs didn't bow to, and my assigned Bowtruckle ended up sending me to the Hospital Wing, my face covered in numerous scratches. There were only two subjects I liked, and they were Herbology and Muggle Studies. I was actually top of the class with these two subjects; but since the latter only had 3 students, it didn't amount to much, and most people thought the former was a joke- I mean, seriously, plants? The most ludicrous talent out there. I guess I loved Muggle Studies so much because of my grandad. He was infatuated with Muggles, and I used to sit with him for hours on end, listening to his tales of their strange antics. At least, I used to sit with him until Victoire walked in, and then he'd practically drop me in his rush to give her a kiss. Herbology was one of my only escapes. I loved being alone in the greenhouses, with only the vegetation to keep me company. I told the plants all my problems and troubles, and it was as if they talked back to me. But most people in my family thought Herbology was a joke- what kind of career can you get out of wildlife?

Out of the hundreds of people I was related to, there were only two that I felt actually close to, and that I loved more than anything else. They were the only ones who could cheer me up when I was sad, and they were really the only ones who paid as much attention to me as they did the rest of my family- in fact, they paid me even more attention than anyone else. Perhaps they felt sorry for me, or perhaps they were the only ones who genuinely liked me for who I was, not for who they wanted me to be.

The first of these magical people whom I loved was my uncle, Harry Potter. I guess he liked me because I reminded him of himself when he was my age- alone, shy and often sad. He had had a much worse childhood than me, but he still wanted to cheer me up. And whatever he tried, he could always make me smile. He doted on all the kids, but I think he played with me the most. He showed me magic tricks with his wand, and told me some Muggle jokes that I thought were absolutely hilarious. I played with his glasses- stealing them from him and walking around with them on, looking strangely bug-eyed. He could always make me laugh.

And then there was my favourite cousin and best friend ever, Fred Weasley. Fred had inherited his father's knack for telling jokes, and he was always cracking them and pulling pranks on unsuspecting people. At school, he and I were hardly ever apart. We studied together, ate together, took classes together and hung around together. Whenever people came up to talk to us, Fred would know that I hated to chat, and so he would take over, cracking jokes and emitting his trademark arrogant aura so no-one noticed how utterly lost I was in the loud wizarding world. He and I were also the first Weasleys to ever be sorted into a house other than Gryffindor, but I for one was glad that I was in Hufflepuff. I had never been brave in my life, and smarts were not my thing. Fred wouldn't have minded whatever house he was in- he just loved making friends and mischief.

I never lived up to expectations. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't smart. I wasn't funny. I wasn't a 'people person'. But I was me. I was Dominique Weasley, and for me, that was enough.


	2. Judgement

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait guys, I've been thinking TONNES about this, but I honestly couldn't be bothered to type it all up… I've been kinda working on my other stories O.o Hopefully this chapter is satisfactory… next one coming soon, I promise!

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><p><strong>Shine As Bright<strong>

**Chapter 1, Judgement**

_Dominique's POV_

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><p>I watched with curiosity as "Bourke, Aili" was called up to the Sorting Hat. She was the first person to be sorted or as I put it, judged. I began taking in all her little details, an annoying habit I had fallen into whenever I became nervous. She had gingery hair, like me, but instead of my fierce red mane, she had smooth and straight strawberry blonde hair. Her skin was pale, her limbs were long and her eyes were brown.<p>

I watched as the girl sat down on the stool. I could see her hands shaking as she clamped them beneath her legs. A long moment of silence followed, and then-

"_Ravenclaw!"_

I smiled. Ravenclaws were alright- my uncle Harry even said that one of his best school friends was in Ravenclaw. The girl seemed nervous still, but that I could understand- Ravenclaws were renowned for being know-it-alls, and apparently, living up to those expectations was very difficult.

I slowly tuned out of the Sorting as "Crenshaw, Yvette" was called up. It was a long way to go until I was sorted, and I wasn't planning on spending that time worrying. I glanced over to my cousin Fred, who was right behind me and at the back of the line. He grinned back at me, his dark eyes shining with excitement. I sighed inwardly. He always made everything look so _easy_. He would be a Gryffindor for sure- he had wanted nothing else for the whole of his life.

But as for me? I had never known what I wanted. Gryffindor would make the family proud, sure, but I had never thought of myself as brave or noble or whatever. But I supposed that only the Sorting Hat would really know the truth.

I tuned back in just in time to hear "Scamander, Lysander" sit down at the Gryffindor table, and "Schofield, Lauren" be Sorted into Slytherin. I hissed at the girl internally. She was tall and tanned, with ratty brown hair in pigtails and the most ripped muscles I had ever seen on an eleven-year-old. It was rather scary, especially when she sneered at the silent tables as she sat down amongst the roaring crowd of green and silver. I shuddered.

Tuning out again, I ran over the family members I had who were already at Hogwarts. There were Victoire and Molly and Roxanne, who were all Gryffindors, and Teddy, who was a Hufflepuff like his mum. The rest of my aunties and uncles had been in Gryffindor, except my aunt Audrey, a muggle. My mother Fleur hadn't even gone to Hogwarts, but she would have been in Gryffindor if she had. She was always so fearless and brave, just like my father.

Tuning back in, I almost fainted when I heard "Vogel, Xavier" being called. I was next. I was next. I was next, I was-

"_Gryffindor!"_

I clapped absently along with the rest of the school, though my hands were white and clammy. Any moment now-

"Weasley, Dominique."

I ground my teeth together. I hated it when people pronounced my first name without the French ring to it- they made it sound dull and English and entirely boring.

I took a deep breath and stepped up to the stool. I sat down and felt the hat slip down over my eyes until I couldn't see a thing. Then I had the shock of my life- it spoke inside my mind.

"Ah, yes, another Weasley, eh? Oh…but different, so different…red hair, yes, but not an ounce of bravery my dear…not one…but, oh! Very ambitious…a want to prove yourself, hmm? A thirst…to be better than you family, perhaps? Or maybe just your sister…."

My hands clenched. How could a hat know all that? _Not Slytherin, just not that_, I pleaded internally.

"Not Slytherin, eh girl? No? Well, then…it'd better be…_Hufflepuff!"_

The world stopped. The hall was silent. A Weasley, in Hufflepuff? As the Hat was removed from my head, my eyes met with Fred's. He was the only first year left, and I was sure his expression mirrored mine exactly. After a moment, though, something clicked, and he grinned, giving me the thumbs up. I stumbled over to the Hufflepuff table and sat, conscious of the many eyes still fixated on me. How could this happen?

"Weasley, Fred."

I pulled my mind back to earth to watch my best friend be Sorted at last. He was a Gryffindor, for sure. Well, he would never be my friend again…not close friend anyway. How can you be best mates in different houses? I ground my teeth together, trying hard not to cry, when-

"_Hufflepuff!"_

Once more, the world stopped, and my heart did also. What the hell was the hat playing at? I watched, dumbfounded, as Fred practically bounced off the chair and sprung down into the seat beside me, his trademark grin plastered across his face, wider than I had ever seen.

"Fred, what…?" I whispered to him. "You should- you shouldn't-"

"Be here?' he smiled back, quirking an eyebrow. "Nah, I should. Hufflepuff'll be fun!"

I shook my head in disbelief. "But- but you've always wanted Gryffindor! I mean…"

Fred shrugged. "Uncle Harry once told me that the Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."

I stared at him. "And what's that supposed to mean, Fred?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "Why don't you work it out, smartass?" I blinked, thought for a few moments, and blinked again. And suddenly it dawned on me.

"You- you _chose_…?"

Fred grinned again, then placed a finger up against his lips. I glanced over to where he was looking and saw the Headmaster beginning his pre-feast speech. Why on earth would Fred choose Hufflepuff? He had wanted Gryffindor his whole life! Unless…he had chosen it for me.

That thought stilled the cogs turning in my mind. In the split second between my Sorting and his, Fred had made the decision to stick with me forever…he changed his whole life for me.

It dawned on me that the Headmaster had finished speaking when I felt a hand tugging at the sleeve of my crumpled robes. I glanced over and met with the amber and gold flecked eyes of Teddy Lupin.

I wasn't very close to Teddy. His abrupt mood swings, from insanely happy to intensely mad, especially around full moon, made me nervous to be around him. Everyone else in the family loved him, and deep inside me I did too, but we were never close. Whenever he dropped by Shell Cottage, he always spent his time with Victoire. Everyone suspected they had a thing going on, but neither admitted it, and I doubted that they ever would.

"Good on you, Dom," Teddy smiled at me, releasing my robe. "Glad someone else is in Hufflepuff. And Fred too, of course. You surprised?"

I just looked at him, my colourless eyes unblinking. He seemed to find my stare disconcerting, and cleared his throat.

"Alright then…so, Fred, looking forward to it?"

Fred grinned hugely. "Heck yeah, man! Oh, Helga, this'll be awesome! Hogwarts at last! I hear this common room's near the kitchen, right?"

Teddy grinned. "Yes, it is, but you're eleven years old for fuck's sakes! Oh, damn…er, sorry." When I didn't react, he continued. "Right…what's with the Helga, Fred? A new swear word, is it?"

Fred shook his head. "Oh, nah! Well, everyone else says oh Godric, so why can't we say Helga?"

Teddy laughed. "Good point, mate. It'll be good to have you around- a laugh I guess. A right sight better than last year's lot. Bunch of miserable teacher's pets, they are. Twats."

Fred grinned. "Right you are. And do you just mean Hufflepuff? Because if not, I'd be happy for you to call Roxy a twat, too. She deserves it, though I don't think Molly does."

Teddy blushed, a rare occurrence for him. "Er, yeah…sorry, mate." When Fred said it was all good, Teddy grinned and then moved back over to sit with his fifth year friends.

I immediately accosted Fred, and knocked the fork full of shepherd's pie out of his hand.

"Oi, Dom! Crossed the line, mate," he said, but he was smiling casually. "What is it?"

"You _chose_ Hufflepuff, Fred. I can't believe it. For me?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Well, someone has an idea of their own self importance, don't they? But yes, I did choose Hufflepuff. But who said anything about it being for you?"

I blinked. "But-"

He cut me off. "Come on, Dom. I can chose whatever house I want, alright? My decision. Now eat up, it's going to disappear soon."

I picked up my cutlery and slowly began to work my way through a chicken breast dipped in honey sauce. I was mulling over Fred's words in my head. Was I wrong? Had he just chosen Hufflepuff?

I looked back over to Fred. He was casually flirting with two other first year girls- both very pretty, one with blonde hair, the other light brown. What a twat.

I rolled my eyes. I would never be able to worm the truth out of Fred. Once more, I felt a tug on my robe sleeve. Once more, it was Teddy.

"What?" I said irritably- any moment now we would be heading to our common room, and I wanted to see it for myself.

"She speaks!" Teddy said, faking a shocked expression. I scowled at him and he grinned. "Hey, I was just kidding. But seriously, Dom, why don't you speak to me? You don't even look at me when I come and visit. Louis talks more often than you, and he's 9!"

I just looked at him, and he sighed.

"Come on, Dominique. You've never even given me a chance!"

I heard the calling of the Hufflepuff prefects, summoning all of us first years. I stood. "I did, Teddy. I gave you a chance, a long time ago. And you never took it, and now you'll never get it again."

And with that, I walked off, Fred's footsteps following close behind me.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, some clarifying tips. 1: Teddy's eyes are described the exact same way as I described Remus' (amber with golden flecks) in my Marauder's story because I believe that Teddy would deliberately take on parts of his parents' appearances to feel closer to them (he has Tonks' facial structure and long fingers. Random, I know). 2: McGonagall is not Headmistress now, she retired several years previously. 3: Only Teddy, Victoire, Molly and Roxanne were at Hogwarts before this year. 4: I know Harry probably didn't tell anyone else about his little 'Sorting Hat secret', but I couldn't resist...so shoot me. That's it I guess… Please R&R!


	3. Wishing

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 2, Wishing**

_Dominique's POV_

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><p>I dug my hands into the soft, white sand piled up in a mound before me. I closed my eyes, and could have sworn I could feel the earth moving. Talking. Whispering to me. But I opened my eyes, for any kind of thought along that path was crazy. No-one else seemed to understand my affinity for plants and the earth- almost all of them regarded Herbology as a soft subject, as subjects went. Those remarks tended to sting more than most others.<p>

My hair flipped over my eyes; coming loose from the headband I had thrust it into only minutes ago. I sighed and gnawed my lip in frustration. Red hair I could handle. Red curly hair wouldn't be too bad. But crazily frizzy, orange hair? It was an absolute nightmare. I pulled a spare hair tie out of my many pockets hidden in my overcoat, and dragged all of the loose red strands into it, forming a messy bun that sat precariously on the top of my skull. I sighed- it would have to do. At least no-one else was out here to see what a state I was in.

And it was a state. I wore my summer denim shorts and white tank top over my freckled skin, but my customary trench coat that I had received for my last birthday from my father was wrapped over them both. I was dressed more for winter than summer, but temperature didn't really bother me. Nothing much didn't really bother me anymore. I had made myself immune.

"Hey, Domino."

The voice jolted me out of my thoughts, and I spun around quickly to see who it was, even though I had registered the tone of voice and nickname as belonging to only one person I knew. I grinned when I met my Uncle's sparkling green eyes. Harry.

"Hey," I said softly to him, as he settled himself down on the grass beside me. I had always admired my Uncle Harry. Many of the girls in my dormitory at school had pictures of him from the newspapers tacked up on the walls beside their beds- there was no denying he was incredibly good-looking, with his beautiful eyes and messy hair and perfect physique. But that wasn't what I loved about him- that would have been disturbing anyhow. What I loved about Harry was how open he was to me and the rest of his family. I knew that none of us knew the full story, except perhaps his wife, but he always made the effort to include us all in whatever he had done and whatever he was doing at that moment. He even deemed it appropriate to include me.

The nickname was something only he knew. To everyone else, even my best friend, Fred, I was Dom. Dominique if I was in trouble. But to Harry and Harry alone, I was Domino, whether it be rain or shine, formal or casual, dire or carefree. I liked the steadiness of my nickname- it never changed, and it was a part of me more than most other things. Just as Uncle Harry was one of the people I felt closest to.

Harry's hand ruffling my hair brought me back to reality. He had let loose my bun, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the strands of my hair slowly creeping forward over my face and shoulders. But I grinned. There was something hilarious about the atmosphere between the two of us- me with my frizzy curls strewn about every which way, and he with his ebony hair mussed up crazily, almost hiding his brilliant eyes and lightning scar. Almost.

"Gardening?" Harry smiled warmly at me, and I liked the fact that he was looking across to me, not down to me. Standing, he was a good deal taller than me, but whenever he spoke to me, he always made the effort to keep me at his eye level, and he at mine.

I nodded eagerly, trailing my long fingers through the straggles of branches and leaves in the bush before me.

"Gillyweed?" he asked, sounding curious. "I thought it only grew somewhere in the Mediterranean…"

I laughed at his confusion. "Normal Gillyweed does, yes. But I wanted to experiment…" The familiar tingle and excitement raced through me as I began to speak about a true love of mine- Herbology. "You see, at the end of first year, Professor Longbottom gave me a Gillyweed seed to plant. Apparently it thrives extremely fast, and he said that I would have a good plant by the time I returned this year." I could feel my smile widen and I pressed on. "He said to experiment upon it, to try and make it resistant to English soil…or, in this case, sand, I suppose." My eyes drifted around to take in the scenery- low white sand dunes, knee-high stalks of pale grass, the ebb and flow of the pristine waves that lapped on the shore of the beach. Shell Cottage really was the most amazing place to live. Shaking my head slightly, I focused back to my explanation.

"So I planted this seed and watched it really closely. As soon as it began to sprout, I grafted it into a Flutterby sapling, and as it grew a little more, I grafted them both into a Venomous Tentacula seedling, which as I'm sure you know can grow almost anywhere, but needs exactly the right care to survive." I smiled again. "So you see this plant? It resembles Gillyweed the most as the starting seed was a Gillyweed one, but the way it moves without any breeze? That's the Flutterby coming through, and you see how the stalks are more elongated than usual? That's the Venomous Tentacula, and if you cut open one of its roots, I'd bet anything there'd be some venom coursing through there."

I looked up from my study of my pet project to see amazement written clearly across Harry's face. "If you want me to explain it further…" I said doubtfully, because I had used the simplest terminology possible, and didn't know any other way to show him what I meant.

To my surprise, Harry shook his head and began to laugh softly. He subsided and looked me right in the eye. "Domino, the only thing I know and remember about Herbology is that Mandrakes can restore people who have been petrified to their original state…" He trailed off, grinning. "I have no doubt that you have an aptitude for Herbology, Domino- perhaps more than an aptitude. Certainly I didn't know Neville to be so skilled with it in second year." I saw Harry smile, and his eyes grow a little distant, as if immersed in a memory. However, he pulled himself back together and glanced back to me.

"I will never understand this, Domino," he said softly. "You need to know anything about your Defence lessons…I'm your man. But this? No-one else I know could understand you."

My face fell, and he seemed to guess at my feelings because he rushed onwards. "No, no, I didn't mean that…I meant that you are so,_ so_ amazing at this Domino, that only_ you_ can really fully explore the depth of your knowledge. You can do anything with this, I know it. You're special."

I stared at him, not knowing what he meant. Me? Amazing? Not bloody likely.

Harry smiled again at me, but a gentler smile this time, one of understanding. "You _are_ special, Domino. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. What you just told me? Blew my mind, darling. It's special. _You're _special," he reiterated.

"But I'm not special like Victoire," I said in the smallest voice I had ever heard come out of any human being's mouth. "I'm not pretty like her."

"Don't you dare say that." Harry's hand grasped my chin and carefully lifted it up so we met eyes again. "Don't you ever say that, Domino. You're one of the most beautiful people I know. And believe me- I've been alive for over thirty years." I smiled weakly at him, and he continued. "Don't let anyone ever say anything against you, Domino. If they do, just say something back. It doesn't have to be cruel, but I have learnt over the years that ignoring insults will only make them all the worse when you face them. Okay? You're beautiful, Domino, and don't ever wish to be anyone else."

I nodded and Harry pulled me to his chest in a tight, one-armed hug full of love and generosity and a million more emotions mixed together. So much for boys having the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Harry released me and smiled. "I'll see you around, Domino. Take care of your Venomous Gilly-by."

He stood up and walked away, his loping grace and long legs taking him back to the cottage in less than half the strides I would have had to make. Smiling to myself, I pondered our conversation.

Being with Harry was different to being with any other adult. Even though more than twenty years separated our ages, sitting next to him, talking to him, it felt like being with a friend. And that's what Uncle Harry was- he was one of my best friends in the whole wide world.

Several minutes passed before I could bring myself to move from my comfortable position and to stand. When I did, however, it felt good to stretch my legs. Undoing my trench coat, I let the front flap open, so it looked and felt more like a proper cloak than ever. I scooped up a handful of the fine sand, the white speckled with golden yellow, and carefully poured it into one of my open pockets. I clasped the opening and began to walk back to the cottage. I had to have a little bit of the land beside me at all times- no exceptions. Without it, I was lost.

Renewed with the confidence Harry had given me, I resolved to walk inside my home and strike up a conversation with the first person I saw. That resolution dissolved, however, as soon as I entered the entrance room of our house.

The room was open and clean, with a wooden dining table, rustic style chairs and white-washed walls. A small door led off into what I knew as the kitchen, and another door led into a hallway containing two more rooms and a stairwell to travel to the next storey, if that was what one wished to do. But I noticed nothing of that as I walked in.

Inside the room was a noisy crowd of people. My Uncles Harry and George and my Aunts Ginny and Angelina were there with their kids, along with my parents, my siblings and my "cousin", Teddy Lupin. He was talking earnestly with my sister, Victoire, but he wasn't the only one. Accidentally or not, the group was arranged in a rough circle, with - guess who? - Victoire in the centre, flipping her blonde hair this way and that as little Lily straddled her lap.

My eyes surveyed the room in dismay. Even Fred was occupied and didn't notice me- he was chatting animatedly to James and Albus, obviously talking to them about Hogwarts' many wonders. My eyes found Harry, with a half hope that he would be looking at me, but it wasn't to be. Ginny was encircled in his arms, sitting in his lap on the recliner chair, with the footrest down. He was whispering something into her ear that made her face flush completely red.

Tears built up in my eyes. Even those who loved me most didn't even know I existed. I turned and fled outside once more. Unbeknownst to me, however, my mother turned her head at the exact moment the last strand of my red hair was disappearing. But she didn't come after me. Perhaps she thought I was an illusion- perhaps she didn't care.

Perhaps she had forgotten I had ever been born.

Perhaps that was what she wished.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> A few points about this chapter. I have no doubt Harry would have shared Hermione's views about emotional ranges to Dominique. And I always imagined Bill and Fleur to continue living in Shell Cottage. I liked the imagery of the place, anyways. R and R!


	4. Trust and Betrayal

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 3, Trust and Betrayal**

_Dominique's POV_

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><p><em>In memory of Cedric Diggory's twentieth anniversary, Hogwarts is once again holding the Yule Ball, a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, and now a way of commemorating the fallen.<em>

_Formal dress is required and a dance partner is optional._

_Shall commence at 8:00 pm sharp in the Great Hall, Christmas Eve._

_Attendance is compulsory for all students._

I shifted my weight anxiously from my right foot to my left. I was standing alone in a crowded Hogwarts corridor, shadowed by an overhanging beam, watching my sister and her entourage talk the day away. They were a pretty lot, anyone would admit that. All of them had flowing hair and sparkling eyes and perfect smiles. It just so happened that my sister was the most beautiful, but I don't think any of them minded. It was just taken for granted that any Veela descendants would be striking, stunning, and popular. Everyone just forgot about me in that equation.

I bit my lip. Talking to my sister in front of her friends without any support whatsoever - Fred had 'prior engagements' - was a daunting task. I took my time in approaching them, choosing to analyse before asking. The tallest among them was Celia, her hair a burnished copper, her eyes a warm chocolate. The smallest among them was Holly, a bounding ball of brunette energy no taller than my shoulder. Then there was Gill, ever chic and splendid in her Ravenclaw robes that matched her midnight eyes and ebony waves. Wendy, Beattie and Freya completed the set as triplets, all with mid-length ringleted hair, two russets and one strawberry blonde. And of course there was Victoire, arresting and angelic and intelligent, all wrapped into one rosy-cheeked fifteen-year-old. Given that she had been beautiful her whole life, I had long ago learned about the world not being fair to everyone.

Gritting my teeth, I stepped forward, straightened my shirt, and cleared my throat. Celia was the first to respond; she turned and, when her warm eyes landed on me, smiled brilliantly. Did I forget to mention that she was also the kindest of my sister's friends? Because she was, and in Hufflepuff just like me. I smiled back warily.

Victoire turned around then, and spotted me. A look of momentary confusion crossed her features, but then she smiled and skipped over to me. And I mean that literally; every step my sister took, every move she made, seemed to be part of an intricate, exquisite dance. I stopped smiling, and she spoke. "Hey, Dom, what's up? Why don't you come and talk more often; I hardly ever see you!"

I didn't deign to respond to her last question, and only answered her first. "I need a dress for the Yule Ball, Vic. Can you…" It was here I began to become hesitant. What if she refused? But I ploughed on. "Can you help me find one?"

Victoire stared at me for a long moment, her mouth slightly agape, puzzlement written across her lovely features. And then she nodded ecstatically. "Of course, Dom! I'd love to help you find a dress. I need one too, so we can shop together next Hogsmeade weekend…that's tomorrow, isn't it?" I nodded. "Celia, Beattie and I were already thinking of going, so you could come along, then?"

I bit my lip. I hadn't bargained on Victoire's friends coming, but I had been stupid not to think of it. And, besides…shopping didn't require much talking, did it? Celia was always kind to me, and Beattie seemed nice enough…was it really _that_ terrible?

And so I agreed and walked away, leaving Victoire looking positively delighted and all her friends chatting in bemused whispers about the strange phenomenon that had just taken place right before their eyes; Dominique Weasley, speaking in public. Would the world's wonders ever cease?

oOoOoOoOo

The snow was falling lightly the day I stepped into an upmarket fashion store for the very first time. The cold bit into my exposed face, leaving me pink-cheeked and short-tempered. This was not to even mention the awful state of my hair; I had jammed a beanie on my head to cover the worst part of the frizz, but I was powerless to stop little tendrils snaking out from beneath and brushing against my ears and eyelashes.

And so, as it happened, when I walked into _Wanda's Witchly Wishes_, I was greeted by a cool stare from the shop attendant who was slowly curling her upper lip at my various states of disarray. Yes, this place was certainly a far cry from Gladrags Wizardwear.

Victoire, Celia and Beattie were already in attendance, the latter almost completely invisible as she worked her way past racks of designer coffee clothing, into which her loose hair blended entirely. I hid a smile at the thought of a lost and found ad in the Daily Prophet for the girl: _Brunette beauty lost amongst designer delicacies. For any information, please contact Wanda._

My sister quickly spotted me and hurried over, enveloping me in a tight hug that probably made the assistant's eyes pop out of her head. She pulled back from the embrace and dragged me into the heart of the store, where I was greeted by her friends. I smiled cautiously at them all, eyeing the seemingly-endless lines of formal dresses and attire that filled the store to the brim. What on earth had I agreed to? Had this _really _been my decision?

About fifteen minutes later, I found myself laden with six or seven dresses and being propelled into a changing room. The walls were painted a stark white, and they were in such contrast with the immense busyness of the rest of the shop I just stood stock still for a minute or so, adjusting my vision. I came to my senses when I heard Beattie knock on the locked door.

"You have something on yet, Dominique?" I said no, and she told me to hurry up so she could see how beautiful I was. _Yeah right._ I rolled my eyes, and began to strip of my many layers of clothing. Not for the first time, I was insanely glad of magical indoor heating.

Pulling on the first concoction, I looked into the mirror to see myself almost lost amid ruffles of champagne lace and tulle. I pulled a face at myself in the mirror, disliking the way the colour made my tangles of hair stand out even more. But I had promised to show the others, and so I stepped out of the room in the hideous gown, grimacing despite myself. I could feel Victoire's and Beattie's gaze upon me, as Celia was still changing, and suddenly I began to laugh. I heard the other two join in after a short moment.

"It's awful, isn't it?" I remarked, surprising myself at my own daring. Peeking out from behind the layers of fabric, I saw Victoire nodding and Beattie still giggling silently.

"Maybe…the next one, Dom." I heard the laughter in Celia's voice as she emerged and spun around to behold her in an equally colourless, yet far more striking gown of silk. She stuck her tongue out at me and I blinked in shock. Surely they didn't like me that much…they were Victoire's friends, never mine…_weren't they?_ I recovered myself and grinned at her, then headed back inside to be rid of the ghastly thing.

The next was a pale green, strapless dress, and we all agreed it was far too mature for a thirteen year old, and the colour made me look sickly. After that came a skintight, miniature thing in a vibrant shade of pink, and we all laughed at Celia's fake vomiting noises. _Really, they are quite fun to be around,_ I thought as I pulled off the latest outfit, an orange and black tunic that was almost too casual for the Ball. _I haven't had this much fun since…well, since Fred set off that firecracker beneath Professor Clearwater's chair, first year._ Maybe, just maybe, life wasn't as bad as I thought. And perhaps even Victoire was nicer and kinder and funnier to be with than I had always assumed.

I filched around in the small space for the last option we had picked out. As I lifted it up to the light, I became intrigued. The others had pulled the selections out, not me, and I had hardly even glimpsed them beforehand. The previous dresses had been…well, hideous and unsuited. But this one…in all my life I had never felt beautiful, yet in something like this I thought I just might.

I pulled it on, careful to smooth out the creases that appeared this time, and somewhat fix my bedraggled hair. Taking a peek in the mirror, I gasped quietly. A broad grin began to spread over my face, and I unlocked the door to show the final choice to everyone.

A silence fell in their chatter as they took in the sight of me standing there, barefoot, in the outfit. And then Beattie broke the silence.

"I knew it would look perfect on you, Dom! I knew it!"

I looked down and brushed the fabric with the tips of my fingers reverently. It was a soft, silken material woven with silvery white thread. Astoundingly, the colour, or should I say lack of it, was almost the exact same as my eyes. The dress was hemmed with a thin strip of black lace that also edged the short sleeves and Peter Pan collar. It came to about mid-thigh, and though I never usually wore anything that short, this dress just felt…right. I wriggled my toes with excitement as I saw the same emotion spreading across Victoire's face.

"Dom…you look beautiful. It's amazing, Nicky," she grinned, using the oldest nickname I could ever remember being given, from when I was about five and Vic was seven. "You're stunning, you're amazing, you're-"

"Totally out of her price range, actually."

We all looked up in surprise at the shop attendant. It was a different woman than before, and I felt embarrassed that we had been here so long that the shift had changed. This witch was lathered in make-up that seemed two inches thick, and her pale blonde hair stood out so oddly from her orange skin and black eyebrows that it was obvious she had it dyed. She was dressed in a bigger size of the horrid pink costume I had tried on earlier, and suddenly I was extremely glad she hadn't seen me in that, at least. Because maybe it would alert her to just how horrible she looked herself.

"What do you mean by that?" Celia's voice sounded genuinely confused, and I admitted that I was stumped as well. The woman gave a disdainful sniff and I saw her lips curve in a horrendous imitation of a smile.

"Well, you three seem to be lovely ladies out for a day's shopping, and I'd be happy to accommodate you here at _Wanda's Witchly Wishes_, but your 'friend', here," she said, making quotation marks in the air with her crimson claws, "…just isn't what we usually see in a…paying customer. I wouldn't be surprised if she shoplifted that dress out of here, actually." The woman sniffed again.

I felt a deep hatred bubble up inside of my chest, hot and scarlet and fresh. I could feel a flush rising up all the way from my breastbone to my hairline, and I wished I could just sink into the floor or melt into a puddle. I saw Victoire's eyes darken, and her frown deepen, and suddenly I knew what was about to happen. The explosion.

"How dare you! That is my sister you're talking to! And who the hell are _you_, anyway?" Victoire's hair seemed to billow out behind her, and I was suddenly glad that we were both only a small part Veela, because otherwise we'd have had a very angry bird-woman on our hands.

"My name is Wanda, actually, _dearie_, and I highly doubt that this is your sister." We all stared at her, Victoire outraged, Beattie and Celia incredulous, and me slowly realising that Wanda was speaking the truth. An awful, horrible, unimaginable truth, but the truth all the same.

"Well, Wanda, you can be sure we'll never set foot in here again! How dare you say that to a _'paying customer'_," Victoire mocked. "And of course Dominique is my sister, you _idiot_, and just because she isn't at all pretty doesn't mean you can say it to her face!"

A shocked silence fell upon the store, and suddenly I felt bad for the other customers inside. There were only several, but all had their eyes averted, and most had their backs completely facing away from us. But then I wasn't thinking of them, for I just registered what had been said. Now all I could hear were Victoire's last words pounding themselves into my brain, hammering on my memories, banging at my thoughts. _Isn't at all pretty… _And suddenly the shopping trip wasn't fun anymore. Suddenly Victoire wasn't the nicest sister anymore. Celia and Beattie weren't my new friends.

I had been conned. Maybe not by all of them, but certainly by the one that mattered most, and though I knew her words to be true, her saying them in the instant I had felt beautiful, had felt able to match my her…they cut deeper than anything else ever could. I immediately stepped back into the changing room and yanked off the dress, not caring if I was ripping it to shreds. I tore at my jeans, hiking them up with such ferocity I knew I had grazed or bruised something. I didn't bother with all the jackets and coats or my beanie. I just pulled my shirt on in a feverish haste, slammed my scarf over my head and raced out of _Wanda's Witchly Wishes_, completely ignoring my sister's pitiful cries, feeling only the salty taste of my streaming tears and the heavy weight of my heart.

oOoOoOoOo

Christmas Eve dawned cold and grey. I had always gone home for the holidays, and so the towering fir trees and singing decorations had taken me entirely by surprise, though I suppose it should have been expected. I wandered about the corridors, tagging along behind Fred who was eagerly setting up some illegal fireworks for when the clock struck midnight. I couldn't help but smile at his eagerness, not to mention his ingenuity; no-one would ever expect the swan ice sculpture to explode into millions of golden stars.

The castle was quiet, but I had anticipated that, at least. Almost every girl was gossiping and preparing for the Ball, even though it was only noon. The rest of them were outside with the boys, all having snow fights and building magnificent figurines in the courtyard.

Over a week had passed since my sojourn into Hogsmeade's fashion elite, and still my blood boiled at the thought of Wanda, and still my heart burned at the sound of Victoire's words thrumming through my thoughts. I had told Fred all of what had transpired, except for the fact that in the last dress I tried on, I had really, truly felt beautiful. He didn't need to know that, and besides, I hardly dared to think he would believe me.

As we rounded a corner, I saw Victoire and two of the triplets, Freya and Wendy, sitting on a stone bench beneath heavy garlands of mistletoe. They were chattering loudly, and Wendy was giggling, and I willed and willed Fred not to make any noise; for him to just turn tail back the way we had come. That was certainly what I was planning to do. But instead, he shot me a _'you need to go and talk to your sister'_ look, and sauntered forward, casually stuffing the firecracker he had had in his hand inside his dragon skin bag. I widened my eyes, but followed along. Of course he'd do all the talking, and all I would need to contribute would be shooting Victoire the dirtiest looks possible. I actually cheered up at the thought of them.

By this time, Freya had noticed us, and nudged her sister, who nudged _my_ sister, who turned around with raised eyebrows and whose mouth fell open into a little 'o' at the sight of me approaching. She opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and instead just got to her feet and waited for us to come.

As we arrived, I noticed with some delight that Fred was now some inches taller than Victoire, and certainly would be more intimidating. Victoire seemed to notice it too, for the first thing she did was to hug Fred around his middle and exclaim praise brightly. "Look how tall you are, Freddie! And how handsome too. Date for the Ball tonight, then?" She raised a teasing eyebrow, and suddenly I noticed that she was trying to ignore me. I fumed inside.

Fred grinned. "Yeah, actually; a Ravenclaw in my year came up and asked me herself. It was a little awkward…but I couldn't say no, and Josie's really cool." He smiled even wider at the three girls, causing Wendy to burst into giggles again, which I thought was highly inappropriate, considering Fred was only just fourteen. I certainly preferred Beattie to these two, I thought, but then mentally slapped myself. Even Beattie had only been pretending. And my heart hardened and burned a little more.

Victoire smiled at Fred, and tweaked his nose. "Always the ladies man, then. Have you seen Teddy lately? I wanted to ask him something." Fred shrugged, shooting me a sly look which I returned. The whole school knew Victoire fancied Teddy, considering she had walked right up to him and kissed him full on the mouth a couple of weeks beforehand. Teddy had then pushed Vic away, and she had been pining away after him ever since. _Ah, young love,_ Fred would say. _Always the sweetest kind. _Not that he knew a jot about it, but still…I had found a picture of Nimueh James under his pillow first week back, and had been wondering ever since if Fred would slowly begin to pull away from me.

To my surprise, then, Victoire turned and faced me, forcing me to cut off my train of thought. "May I help you?" I asked coldly, wishing the second after it slipped out to reel it back in. I never started an argument, least of all with my sister, whereas she did it all the time. Was I becoming Victoire?

Victoire looked slightly affronted, I noticed with an inside smile, and I added a point to my internal scoreboard. _Dominique: 1; Victoire: 283. _Ah, well.

"Yes, actually, I was wondering if you wanted your dress for tonight," she began in an acidic tone, but obviously quickly remembered that she was the one who should be apologising to me. She took a deep breath. "I bought it for you. The silver one? It's in my dorm, and I could go fetch it for you, if you would like…" I blinked. Victoire had bought the dress for me? Why on earth would she waste her money on someone who was _'not at all pretty'_? Stunned into stupidity, I nodded, and before I could say another word, she had grinned and flounced off, Freya and Wendy in her wake. Fred stared at me. I stared back.

We must have looked odd, then, staring at each other for over a minute, but thankfully Victoire arrived back before one of us could say something a little more than awkward. She was holding a clear plastic bag in her left hand, and inside it I could see the silvery grey folds of the dress she had purchased. The dress… Suddenly I was filled with longing, and I snatched it out of her hands the moment she was close enough to do so. She raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks, Victoire…" I said quietly, embarrassed at my selfishness. She smiled hesitantly, but I wasn't ready to forgive her. Even if she had just bought me this expensive, beautiful, _very _fine gown… I shook my head slightly, clutched the bag tighter to my chest and waited for her to speak.

Victoire obviously felt my anger and reluctance, and her grin faded. She frowned sadly instead, and spoke. "I could help you get ready…if you want, I mean…" I just stared, and then shook my head. As much as her wide, shiny eyes gazed at me, I just couldn't find it in my heart to agree. Her face fell a little, and then she turned without another word and left me alone with Fred, a bag in my hand that I certainly didn't deserve.

oOoOoOoOo

Seven p.m., and I was only just beginning to get ready. I pulled on the dress gingerly, amazed that it hadn't been ripped by my anger in _Wanda's Witchly Wishes_. But I suppose that even if it had been, magical clothes repair wasn't too difficult to manage.

I was alone in my dormitory's bathroom, a full-length mirror hanging on the back of the locked door. Fastening the buttons at the back, I smoothed down the silvery fabric and looked straight at myself. I smiled. I glanced to the side, taking in all my pairs of shoes I owned. None of them were suited to a Ball, and my feet were really much too big for me to borrow any of my roommates' footwear. I sighed, and then lifted up a pair of black ankle boots. I considered, holding them against my dress, and then shrugged and slipped them on. They didn't look half bad.

I had no jewellery to speak of, and so I turned my attention to my hair. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much _Sleakeasy's_ hair potion I lathered into it, my wild frizz just refused to cooperate. I stifled a cry, and looked at the clock. Seven-thirty. Oh, bollocks.

It was then I spied the strong scissors resting on the sink's bench. I just looked at them for a long moment, and then reached out hesitantly to touch them. Maybe my hair would look nicer if I had far, far less of it… I was willing to bet anything it would. Gripping the scissors resolutely, I turned back towards the mirror and held the blades up to my red mane. I closed my eyes. _Just one snip, at first, and then another, and another, and…_

When I opened my eyes again, almost all of my hair was now on the floor. I laughed aloud. Banishing the discarded tendrils to the rubbish bin in the corner, I examined my reflection closely. I used the scissors to chop any longish bits off, and then stood back.

My hair was as short as a boy's, slightly spiked and curling around the front of my ears. I grinned. I remembered seeing a photo of Teddy's mother, Tonks, with her hair almost exactly the same, except a lurid pink. I liked it this way, and I found that I didn't care a jot what anyone would think of it.

Glancing at the clock, I felt my heart rise into my throat. Seven-fifty-five. _Showtime._

oOoOoOoOo

I stopped just outside the open doors leading into the Great Hall, breathing in the cool scent of Butterbeer and silk and excitement. I could spend all night like this, I thought. Just add the faint whiff of a smoking WWW firework, fresh blackberry jam and rich, wet earth, and I would be all set. But people were staring at me just standing there, obviously looking listless and dazed, and so I coughed up some courage that must have been buried somewhere deep, deep inside of me, and entered the crowd of swaying students, all bedecked in glitzy jewellery and frothy fabrics.

I suddenly wished I had on my old winter trench coat, if only to hide from the shocked glares and curious glances. Most had obviously not expected me to come, and many of them probably had never even seen me before, I kept so much to myself during the school term. I fought the urge to wrap my arms around myself, to suck in my stomach which I knew for sure wasn't a perfectly flat plane, to pull what remained of my hair over my eyes. Old habits die hard, I guessed.

I was just about to go and find myself a nice comfortable seat in which to watch the entertainment when my sister's usually so soft voice pierced my happy daydream.

"Dom? What in the _world _have you done to your hair?"

I turned.

Victoire was approaching me, and fast. Adorned in a stunning lilac dress with long sleeves and a cinched waist, her hair curled to absolute perfection, she looked drop-dead gorgeous. I was surprised she hadn't already latched herself onto Teddy, but then I remembered their huge fight only the week beforehand, and wondered if that was the reason behind the almost-invisible red rims lining my sister's eyes.

"Have a problem with it, do you, Vicky?" I tried desperately to keep the venom out of my voice, but even to my ears the admonition sounded thin and bitter. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. Now was _definitely _not the time to cause a scene. When I looked cautiously into Victoire's face again, I felt a rush of jealous pride at the hurt that showed there, but the feeling was quickly stifled by a wave of guilt. She was my _sister_, for Helga's sakes…but perhaps I didn't care so much about that anymore…

Victoire blinked. "Well, no, I…" she trailed off, looking awkward, a feat I hadn't even known was possible for her. "But it's your hair, Dom, and…and…oh, Nick, what on earth will Mum say?"

"I don't give a damn what Mum says, Vic. I've cared for the past thirteen years, but I ain't caring anymore. And it's my hair anyway, and I'll do whatever the hell I want with it!" I spoke in a savage whisper, and I had a very strong feeling that I looked very much like my Gram Molly at that moment, sabre-toothed tiger-teeth bared. Victoire looked taken aback by my outburst.

"Of- of course, Dom, it looks nice, really…" She doesn't sound convinced, and suddenly I don't want to listen to her excuses and apologies anymore. I don't want to hear how sorry she is, and I don't want to see her comparing me to our mother. I've had enough of that to last me my entire lifetime. Heck, even Louis looks more like Mum than I do!

"Shut up, Victoire. I don't want to hear your empty words. Just leave me alone." I said, all in a rush of one pent up breath, releasing everything that had been building up inside of me for some time. Victoire looks hurt, and so for her sake, I add one more word on the end of my tirade. "Please." And at that, for the first time in my life, I am the one to walk away from my sister, knowing she wants to talk to me, but also knowing that there is nothing in the whole world she can do about it.

Tables had been set up all along the edges of the hall, circular tables each with a small, unique ice sculpture as their centrepiece. The tablecloths were white, but the seats had black leather cushions and every piece of crockery was coloured cream edged with ebony enamel, and I knew that they were for that Diggory boy, not to mention the rest of the war casualties. A small shiver ran up my spine as I took a tentative seat on one of the dining chairs.

The dancing was becoming far livelier, and I found my foot tapping along to the music. My throat felt dry, and I decided to go and see if any Butterbeer was available nearby. But curse my clumsy feet, for no sooner had I stood up than I was sprawled on the floor next to a very freckly, very blonde sort of person who couldn't seem to stop laughing.

I scowled at him, but knowing it was my fault we were laying on the flagstones, I got cautiously to my feet and offered him my hand. He just stared at me for a long moment before standing quite ably by himself. My hand was still stretched out between us like an unwanted piece of leather, faded and torn and stretched beyond use, and I quickly folded it back in towards my stomach, succumbing to the urge. The boy eyed me with amusement, and it took all my resolve not to disappear into the roaring crowd.

"Well, well, well, Dominique Weasley, what have you done to yourself?" He spoke with an air of incredulity, concern and delight. I was shocked, to say the least.

And I actually did recognise this boy. He was a Gryffindor in my year, one half of a set of twins, and the son of some of my uncles' and aunts' closest friend. Luna, her name was, and the boy…something beginning with 'L', I thought…

"L-l-l-lor… Lorcan?" I tried tentatively, not sure which twin was which. His brother was nowhere in sight, but I supposed that it wasn't really his scene. An incredibly bookish Ravenclaw, I had heard.

He grinned. "It's Lysander, actually, but nice try. Lorcan's outside somewhere, though." _Lysander._ I cursed my awful memory. Everyone knew that this one before me was the outgoing twin, the one with a sense of humour, something his brother hardly shared any of. It also helped that Lysander wore his blonde hair in short dreadlocks, while his brother did not.

I cleared my throat. "Well…sorry, then. And by the way, I can do whatever I want with myself. It's not as if I need your permission, _Scamander._" I emphasised his last name, hoping he'd take the hint and leave, but instead he just slid his hands into his pockets and leant against an unoccupied chair. I bit back a groan, but he obviously noticed my discomfort, for again there was the cheeky grin flashing in my direction, the way it made his left cheek dimple, his forehead crease slightly… Oh, Helga, what was I thinking?

I looked away from him quickly, struggling internally with my pupils to draw them away from his sturdy, muscled forearms, laid bare by the fact that his dress shirt's sleeves were rolled to the elbow. Again, I stomped down hard on this train of thought. It would not do to…to…

Lysander's head was tilted slightly in my direction, his beautiful blue eyes squinting as if against a bright light. Both his cheeks were dimpled now, and…

"You all right, there? You've gone very…ah, _pink_." I glared at him, and he shrugged, smiling mischievously again. Oh, _curse _him and those Godric-damn grins!

I wiped sweaty palms against the silvery folds of my skirt.

Swallowed stiffly.

Blinked.

"Yes, I'm quite fine, thank you. And if you'll excuse me, I'll be going…" I tried to sidestep him, but his hand whipped out and caught mine in its calloused net. He pulled me back towards him, closer than I had been before, and I surreptitiously shuffled away, ever so slightly. But he saw, and his dimples were back in full force.

"I'm not that boring, am I?" He said this with such conviction, such sweetness, I had to fight the awful urge that had me almost reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Had someone slipped me a_ love_ potion, this evening, because I sure felt akin to the feelings they induced, and I didn't like them _one bit_.

"No, I just don't think you'd like to spend your night with me, and you're just too polite to say so." Lysander frowned at me. _Wait._ "Or too stupid." Damn my hammering heart! I was positive he could hear it, as it was all that beat through my ears in that moment. I had to strain to listen to his reply.

"Polite, Dominique? No way in hell and back again. Stupid? Maybe. Ask Lorc, he'll know. And spending the evening with you?" Lysander stared hard into my eyes, and I was transfixed. It seemed as if he was searching my entire soul. "Sure. No Nargles hereabouts, so I doubt you'll infect me." He gave me another one of his dizzying smiles, and I had to shut my eyes tight to calm myself down enough to speak again.

"Scamander, I highly doubt you're telling the truth."

"How can you know that for sure? This is the first time I've heard you say more than two words in a row without your cousin hanging around. Where is he, anyway?"

I registered what Lysander had said, and felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hadn't seen Fred all night, not since I'd locked myself in the bathroom to get ready. I looked around, and spotted him almost instantly. Relief crashed through my chest, though I wasn't sure at all why. He was chatting to Josie Clark, a loud, golden-blonde Ravenclaw, skinny enough to almost see right through her, but with a brain that could catapult me into the next century, if I ever felt the need to challenge it. Which I never, _ever_ would. I smiled slightly at my best friend, seeing the way his eyes drifted ever so slightly in the direction of Nimueh James, his crush since first year and a surprisingly generous Slytherin. Fred, always the playboy. I shook my head in exasperation and turned back to Lysander, only to find him standing inches away from me and staring intently at my face. I blinked. He stepped back once, twice. We were still closer than before. I didn't want him to move any further.

I tried to recall the thread of our conversation, which was a ridiculously hard task considering Lysander was just _standing_ there, looking right into my eyes. "Ah…um, Fred's right over there, if you, ah, want to chat…to him…" Lysander was still staring, and I shifted uncomfortably to my other foot.

He seemed to sense my awkwardness, and it was probably written all over my face also. He smiled. "I see him. But like I said, I want to talk to you." I stared. He stared back. Cleared my throat.

"Er…why?"

"Because _maybe_ I just want to be your friend, Dom. You ever thought of that possibility; that someone actually_ wants_ to be near you? Or are you so full of self-deprecation that you can't even _see_ it when someone is trying to engage you in conversation, let alone make_ friends_." Great. He'd finally caught on that I'm not the interpersonal one of the family. And what does self-deprecation even _mean_, anyway? I rolled my eyes, trying to make him smile, but his gaze hardened.

"I don't even know why I try, Dom. Do you even realise I've been working up the courage to try and talk to you since September? Of course you don't. And you don't even know why."

And then Lysander was walking away, his shoulders flung back in such a way I knew he was fuming. I don't know how or when I became such well-versed in Scamander-reading, but somehow, I just knew it. And watching him stride away like that, dreadlocks flying, I felt a great surge of regret that I never even got to ask what Nargles were.

And right then, I stopped feeling anything like a French princess, and started feeling just like Dominique Apolline Weasley, plain and stupid, through and through.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Gah! Finally up! I'm_ so_ sorry to keep everyone waiting like that, but guess what? The next chapter is already in progress! _Woot woot!_ Anyway... I would SERIOUSLY, AMAZINGLY, AWESOMELY appreciate reviews on this chapter. _Pleases and thankyous_ in advance to those who do. A couple of things now: Dom's middle name, Apolline, is Fleur's mother's name, just in case you guys forgot 'bout that. I was thinking that Dom would have this name because Victoire would either be Victoire Fleur or Victoire Gabrielle, after Fleur's sister. Which do you think? And also, yes, Lysander is Luna and Rolf's son. I plan to feature him quite a lot in the next chapters..._mwahahaha._ Oh, and Nimueh James is a half-blood Slytherin, but really, she's a good sort. Fred lurves her very much, but he's too kind to say no to dear old Josie. (Who, by the way, is in the year abve, and good friends with Roxanne.) So, yeah, any questions, give me a buzz! But other than that, sorry, enjoy, and see you next time! (:

**P.S.** A MASSIVE thank you to **_rainbowpanda0_ **for her pure awesomeness in everything she did for me. Thanks for the advice, and I hope you enjoyed Vic's _'wtf'_ moment.


	5. The Friends

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 4, The Friends**

_Dominique's POV_

* * *

><p>I had only ever possessed a single mirror; I had never wished for more. My mirror was dirty, misty, the metal base rusted and clunking with age. I did not try and point out these blemishes to my mother, for I was quite happy with a terrible looking glass, <em>thank you very much<em>, as not everyone desired to catch their reflection every minute of the day. My sister owned two or three mirrors, hanging on her bedroom walls, and even my brother's single handheld device was in better condition than mine. But I didn't care in the slightest, at least for the first few years of my life. Eventually, however, there came a day that I very much desired I could have a full-length, clean reflective glass to myself, for without it I would surely perish in embarrassment and ridicule.

It was the twenty-seventh of December, and I was home for the Christmas holidays in my fourth year. I had snuck into Victoire's room, ransacking her drawers, trying to find a comely hat that I could use to cover up my sunburnt ears, for I had learned during the past school term that the snow can be very useful in making vulnerable bits of pale, freckled skin bright, shining red. And my shockingly ginger hair only helped accentuate the discolouration.

Seizing at last a purplish-blue beanie from beneath my sister's bed, I raced down the hall to find the mirror in the far corner of the corridor. How I wished I possessed my own, if only to escape Victoire's snickering glances at my seemingly-glowing ears. I crammed the hat over my short spikes of hair, arranging the wisps that curled out from beneath over the protruding parts of my pink ears, in the hope to disguise them. Standing back, I admired my handiwork for what it was; shoddy. Grumbling, I threw up my hands in a sign of defeat and trudged down the stairs, trying to look and seem inconspicuous. My mother, however, spotted me immediately and raced over to arrange my dress properly. It was the same one I had worn for the Yule Ball last Christmas, and since I had grown neither up nor out, nor gotten any curvier, for that matter, it still, miraculously, fit. And I was wearing it today since we were trekking over from our cottage on the sand into the heart of London, a.k.a. Diagon Alley. My cousin and best friend Fred lived there with his family above their privately owned booming business, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and after spending the actual Christmas holiday at home, we were braving the cold to meet up with them for a belated celebratory lunch. All my family was attending, even though Uncle George's house was rather small, but I had heard on the grapevine that we would actually be dining in the Leaky Cauldron, along with my Herbology Professor Neville, which was just creepy, and his wife Hannah, who was the landlady. And so I felt rather cheerful as the five of us exited our house, making our way over a few sand dunes to an appropriate place. It was there Louis, Victoire and I grasped one of our parents' hands and sucked in a loud breath as we spun into crushing darkness.

According to Harry, the Leaky Cauldron looked much better nowadays than it had ever been. He attributed it to the new landlady, Hannah Longbottom, but I secretly thought that it was probably the case since nowadays, all the wizarding wars were over and everybody could have some peace and quiet, with a nice clean pub to boot. My family and I arrived on the corner of a busy, Muggle London street, just across the road from the disguised entrance to the Cauldron. We arrived, as it were, with a bang, but since my father was rather accomplished at making Muggles not notice what he didn't want them to, not one head turned our way. We strolled casually across the road and I pushed open the door, having arrived first. The atmosphere inside was at such odds with the dingy entrance it momentarily took my breath away. Silver and gold tinsel was wrapped around the banisters leading up towards the pub's accommodation, and holly wreaths and sprigs of mistletoe were hung all around the room. A large Christmas tree stood off in the far corner, glowing with lights that were probably some sort of magical bug. Celestina Warbeck, a singer from back in the day, was playing on the wireless, some old song which I gathered to be entitled _A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love_. I laughed quietly at the outdated music, but was drowned out by a disparaging sort of sound from behind me. I turned to see my mother's nose wrinkled slightly. She shuddered.

Ignoring that, I continued on through the pub, letting my hand trail along above me, trying to reach the few floating candles that hung there, obviously reminiscent to Hogwarts' own Great Hall. Hannah smiled at me from behind the bar, which I returned rather weakly. She was a quiet blonde woman, no taller than me, but with a grin that could melt hearts. It was obvious Professor Longbottom's heart had liquefied some time ago.

I gestured to her that we would be back later, and she nodded, smiling again. Pushing past the other customers, I made my way to the door at the back of the dining area. Strolling through, I emerged into a chilly courtyard, my family close behind. I stepped aside to let my father tap the bricks, since I so often forgot how, and Diagon Alley opened up before me like a clockwork jack-in-the-box. I grinned at the familiar sights, sounds and smells, and began to run through the busy laneway, dodging shouting warlocks and haggling witches. My uncle's store was not the most outrageous by far, but still drew every eye in the street despite the flashing lolly store windows opposite. I was proud of that fact, and boldly stepped inside. It was packed, with barely any space to think, and I was somewhat smothered. And then my saviour appeared: my father's freckled hand captured my own and dragged me through the rush hour of people towards the stairs at the rear end of the main room that led up to the house above. I took them two at a time, flinging open the door to reveal a warm, homely kitchen in which my aunt was standing, yelling something down the hall, while at the same time stirring some sort of soup in a pot and adjusting the radio station. She turned at the sound of the open door banging against the wall behind, and smiled, her white teeth flashing amazingly against her gorgeous dark skin.

"Dominique! I was wondering when you'd be arriving! And- oh, hello, Bill, it's a pleasure to see you. George's somewhere downstairs, sorry, helping Verity with a particularly difficult child. Apparently he wouldn't leave without twenty Puking Pastilles, which his mother absolutely refuses to buy for him. George should be back in a jiffy." Angelina said all this in a hurry, which was her way, as she was always multitasking; Quidditch, cooking, raising children and helping run the store, to name only a scant few. I did not wait around for her to continue, however, as I desperately wanted to see Fred. I walked purposely down the corridor, swinging right around the corner, and stopped at the third door on the left. I knocked once and then swung it open without bothering to wait for a response.

"Fred, you would not believe the present Vic got me for Christmas, it was utterly ridicu-" I paused, my eyes catching up with my mouth and finally registering the scene before me. Fred was lounged on the ground, his back against his bed, dark hair tousled, cheeky grin spread. His gaze was only just tearing away from the other occupant of the room, and it was she that made my pulse freeze.

Nimueh James. She was in our year at school, and a Slytherin, but for the life of me I could never figure out why that was. She was crazily intelligent, but seriously kind as well, and I was almost certain she wasn't a pure-blood. And yet, at every moment I had ever set eyes upon her, she was always donned in a silver and green tie, knotted loosely and hanging lazily. Except for today. Today, Nimueh was wearing bright red jeans that hugged her curves far too tightly, a plain white t-shirt that exposed her absolutely perfect neckline, and an old Muggle jacket which dimly registered in the back recesses of my mind as being army fatigue. Her brown curls were tied in two ponytails, and she looked the absolute picture of innocence, which was completely reversed by the first words that left her mouth.

"Dominique, right? Fred's told me so much about you! And goodness, what in the world happened to your ears?" _My ears? _What- oh, you_ bitch_, I thought spitefully. The hurt must have shown on my face, for Nimueh's smile disappeared, and Fred said my name, over and over.

"Dom. Dom, wait-" But I was already out the door. How _could_ he? _How_ could _he_? He hadn't even told me she was staying; and for _Christmas_, especially! Do I _look_ like an effing idiot? I _know_ he's trying to replace me! _That bitch!_ These thoughts whirled around in my head, thousands of voices speaking at once, until I had no idea who or where I was. And I was so disorientated; I did not even notice my favourite uncle strolling along the corridor until I slammed into his chest, several of his shirt buttons cutting sharply into my cheeks and forehead. I sprang backwards instantly, cautious, before I realised who exactly I had canoed into.

Harry.

"Whoa, Domino, any faster and you'll arrive in Spain." Harry squinted at me through the shining lenses of his glasses, and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

How did he know? How did he _always_ know? "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Harry raised his other eyebrow, until both were dangerously close to disappearing beneath his fringe. "Domino," he began, shoving one hand into his pocket and letting the other rest on my shoulder. "I may not be particularly well-versed in reading people's emotions, and in most cases I'm blind as a bat in regards to it, but…" He trailed off, staring hard into my eyes. Sometimes, those emerald pupils made me want to cry for my mother. "But even_ I_ know something's wrong." I cursed Harry's sharp eyes and clenched my hands into fists, the nails making little half-moon indents in my palms when I pulled them away.

But I decided to tell him, for it was Harry who had always solved my problems as a child, Harry who always gave the best, smartest and kindest advice. I opened my mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again. My tongue was heavy, but I managed to lift it enough so I could speak. And once I began, I found it hard to stop.

I told him about how Fred had liked Nimueh since first year. I told him about how unfair it was he hadn't said she was visiting. I told Harry about how pretty Nimueh was, how utterly ridiculous I looked beside her. I told him how Fred had betrayed me. I told him what Nimueh had said, and how it had made me feel. I told him everything, and all he did throughout was stand and listen. That's why I loved him.

When I was done, I sighed. Harry stared at me again, green eyes piercing into my skull, reading my thoughts. Or so it seemed to me, anyway. And then he spoke. "Domino, I heard everything you said, but none of it made any sense whatsoever." I was outraged. No sense! Of course it made sense! I opened my mouth for a sharp retort, but couldn't fit one in for Harry was talking again. "Fred's liked Nimueh since first year. That's entirely plausible. And yes, she is pretty, but so are a lot of girls. Including you, Domino."

I rolled my eyes. "You're full of it." My anger was gone, having leaked out of me like steam from a boiling kettle.

He smiled. "I'm told that at least twice a day by my wife, Domino, though with far more colourful language." Harry's eyes misted over whenever he spoke of Ginny, and today was no exception. He shook his head slightly. "Anyway. Yes, Domino. Fred didn't tell you Nimueh was visiting, because he _didn't know_, at least not until the last minute, and by then you were long gone." Harry smiled apologetically, but I was once again incensed. "Nimueh's here, Domino, because her mother is in St. Mungo's with dragon pox, her father will not leave the hospital, and the only other place for her to go was some crazy aunt's in Wales." Well, that deflated my anger bubble. I just stared at him, uncomprehending. "All of her friends are away, and she had nowhere else to go. And I know she didn't mean to hurt you like that. Sometimes…she leaps before she looks."

Harry straightened up and stretched, his arms reaching both walls of the corridor. "Anyway, Domino. I was sent up here to check out a Boggart in Angelina's spare wardrobe, so if you'll excuse me…" He turned away from me and began making his way down the hallway. He stopped, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, yeah, and everyone's ready to hop down to the Leaky Cauldron, so if you'll just stop by your cousin's room and tell him and his friend to head on down? Everybody else is already there. Thanks, Domino."

I blinked. No, no, I don't want to just _stop by my cousin's room_! Didn't Harry hear what I had just said? Didn't he know how embarrassing, how humiliating, how…how…

Somehow, though, I just couldn't manage the same anger level as before. Now I knew why Nimueh was here, I couldn't help but feel pity for her. I just don't know what I'd do if my mother was that sick…curl up in a ball and cry, probably. Leaving Vicky to save the day. Again.

I sighed. As much as I didn't want to admit it, Nimueh was actually sweet, and no-one deserved Fred more than her. But it certainly would be humiliating, walking in there after storming out. Ah, well. Best thing's to ignore it, I supposed.

I retraced my steps and once again ended up by Fred's closed door. His name was painted on it with an artist's hand, probably Roxanne's, in Hufflepuff colours. I lost myself for a moment in the peculiar grain of wood that made up his entryway; it was dark brown, in all sorts of swirling patterns that never failed to capture my attention. Strengthening my resolve, however, and pulling my head out of delirious daydreams, I knocked on the door once, twice. I didn't want to barge in again, not after last time. I fact, I didn't think I would ever barge in on another door again. I didn't want to uncover any compromising situations.

The door opened and I found myself staring intently into Nimueh's gorgeous hazel eyes. She looked just as shocked as I felt on the inside, but I plastered on a smile and spoke with fake bravado.

"Harry says everyone's down at the Leaky Cauldron now, and you two'd better join them, if you want any lunch at all. You know how they are," I said, referring to my eternally ravenous male cousins. I saw Fred open his mouth to speak, but I turned away before he could. The steely look on my face would only last so long, and I had no wish for him to see me crumble. I heard him call my name again, but I just walked away, tuning out of his concern and ignoring the throbbing of my heart. How I cursed Nimueh for making him so happy, and how I cursed myself for making him quite the opposite. _How can a stranger seem closer to him than I will ever be?_

oOoOoOoOo

It took me about fifteen seconds to figure out that I was headed the wrong way, deeper into the apartment, instead of leaving. I was about to turn back when a loud banging sound alerted me to a presence, and I immediately remembered what Harry had said about a Boggart. I forged ahead, following the sounds, emerging into one of the two guest rooms, to see Harry laughing quietly at nothing while a small cut on his forehead trickled blood ever so slowly towards his eyelashes. Sometimes, I wondered if he really was cracked inside.

He saw me enter, and his smile widened. "Domino. Lesson number one, when you're an Auror. Expect the unexpected." His eyebrows were reflexively raised as he spoke, and he seemed to feel the cut for the first time, wincing and then wiping a hand across his brow, smudging the red. Looking at his stained palm in disgust, he finished cleaning the abrasion, which really only involved smudging the blood until it disappeared off of his brow, and then proceeded to wipe his hand on his button-up white shirt, leaving a noticeable discolouration. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Whatever do you mean, Harry?"

He sighed, unable to stop smiling. "Angelina told me to expect a Boggart…what she hadn't told me is that there are in fact…_three_." He shook his head in exasperation. "_Riddikulus_ only goes so far when faced with three dead Ginnys, Domino, let me tell you that." I must have blanched, for he stopped smiling. "Not real, Domino, not-"

"I know they weren't real, Harry. We had to do a lesson on them in Defence last year." Harry seemed to find this idea amusing, as he was grinning again.

"Honestly, Harry, sometimes I wonder if you're bonkers, you know. Everybody does."

"Ah, but I'll tell you a secret, dear Domino; all the best wizards are." He grinned at me, and for the first time in my life I noticed the shadowed grief behind the bright emerald of his eyes, the disguised horror beneath the warm, carefree mask. Something different, something strange must have shown on my face, for Harry frowned. I fished around for a suitable change of topic.

"So you got rid of them, then?" At his nod, I grasped wildly at the last thread of the conversation before an awkward silence befell on us. "And just how did you manage to cut your head open, Harry?"

He smiled again now, and I marvelled at his ability to hide so much terror and sadness with hardly anything noticeable to indicate his feelings. And even I only saw it because I knew him well; no doubt strangers saw nothing whatsoever to be wrong. "Ah, well. Like I said, Domino, be prepared." I waited for him to elaborate. "Alright, alright. I unlocked the wardrobe door, and it swung open a little too quickly for my liking… Of course with three Boggarts in there, I suppose I didn't stand a chance," he said jokingly, amusement shining out of his glowing face.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Honestly, Harry. Sometimes I wonder how you ever became Head of Department…hmm?" He smiled at me knowingly, but I didn't become frustrated. Just being here with my uncle, joking around, having a good time…it was worth much more than any amount of gold, in my book.

"That's a secret for me and my wife. And now, Domino, I suppose we should go on down to the Cauldron…look at you, you're skin and bone! We'd better get there before all the food's gone, eh? Not that I need much fattening up…" He patted his hand on his stomach, which I knew for a fact to be smooth and flat. I marvelled, not for the first time, at his utter beauty. Mussed ebony hair, snapping jade eyes, perfect physique…of course, I had never 'checked out' my uncle, but living with four other gossiping girls for over three years did yield me some useful information. To be honest, Harry never struck me as handsome. He just struck me as himself; as Harry. My uncle, my friend, my confidante.

I supposed my face had become glazed, a habit I had been told I fell into when off daydreaming, for the next thing I knew Harry was shaking me on the shoulder and practically dragging me towards the door. It took me another moment to register that he was speaking.

"…of course, I know I'm irresistible, but honestly, you're the beautiful one, Domino." He glanced down at me from his considerable two head height advantage, squinting through the clear lenses of his glasses. "You're beautiful, Domino. I expect you'll be getting yourself a catch soon, and I don't mean something aquatic." I was confused momentarily, before realising what he was saying. I felt a blush rise up through me from my breastbone to my forehead as, unbidden, an image of Lysander Scamander, that infuriatingly handsome Gryffindor, floated in my mind's eye. Harry looked absolutely delighted.

"Oh, bollocks, Harry, get lost," I grumbled at him. "You didn't start dating Ginny until her fifth year, so I have some time to go, right?" He remained silent. "Right?" Harry just grinned his ridiculous, frustrating grin that seemed to indicate he knew something I didn't. I slapped him lightly across the shoulder. "Oh, shut up."

"Domino, as far as romantic advice goes, look anywhere but me. Because even though I ended up with the most beautiful woman on the planet, to this day I still have no idea how it happened." A dazed expression had crossed his face, seemingly placing his mind in another place, another time, another dream…

A loud jumble of overlapping voices interrupted my thoughts, and I realised with enormous surprise that we were in the Leaky Cauldron. We must've walked right through the apartment, the shop, the street, without either of us knowing it! I couldn't help but laugh at this, for Harry had never struck me as the preoccupied, dreamy type, but I supposed even the strongest of men must bow their iron wills to their lady loves.

Harry propelled me forward into the heart of the cheery pub by thrusting me with one arm hard in the small of my back. I tripped, skipped and maintained some semblance of walking properly again, only to have my mother swoop unceremoniously down upon me, chiding me for tardiness and all manner of other things, but ensuring me that _yes_, I did in fact look stunning. Which was a little odd, considering nearly everyone dining here today was related to me in one way or another, except…my eyes found a familiar head of curling dirty blonde hair, and they widened in surprise. Luna was here, but surely, surely, that wouldn't mean…

_Oh no. _

He spotted me, and grinned, approaching, obviously seeing my rising blush. Suddenly I felt stupid. Why, _why _did I wear the same dress as I had the last time we properly talked, just over a year ago now? And wait; why, _why_ did I suddenly care about my appearance? Lysander meant _nothing_ to me, nothing whatsoever…

My stomach gave a small, frightened lurch as I faced him, the squadron of twittering birds inside making any case of butterflies, however bad, seem miniature by comparison. And believe me; I knew enough about butterflies to make an informed decision.

Lysander was still smiling his stupid, facetious smile, and to break the very pregnant pause that had opened up between us, I said something totally and utterly ridiculous. "Your dreadlocks. They're gone."

He quirked me an eyebrow, as if to say, _well, duh!_ "Yes, they are, Dominique. I felt it was time for a change. I s'pose one could say that you inspired me to do so," he said, nodding towards my hair, which should've been hidden beneath my purple beanie but which was slowly and inescapably curling out from beneath. I examined him. I preferred his hair like this, to be honest; a nice length, not too short, not too long, but just below the ears, a gleaming golden blonde. His glinting eyes seemed to notice me taking notice of him, and I saw the laughter dancing behind their weak shields. I rolled my eyes at him, and he laughed, and suddenly the enmity between us was gone.

I felt truly terrible for what I had said to him last Christmas Eve. He had seemed deeply hurt then, but seeing his laughing face, his easy position, I wondered if I had really had any effect on him at all. The possibility made me strangely, curiously sad.

"Oh." _Right_, well done, Dominique, I thought viciously. _Very profound!_ He'll think you're daft as a doorknob after that! But actually, Lysander didn't seem to mind. He just nodded thoughtfully, surprising me, since before I had thought that he, like Nimueh James, always leapt before he looked. But then again, I had never been the best judge of character.

Another silence developed between us but, surprisingly, it was anything but awkward. I felt safe and comfortable with him now, and nothing needed to be said to verify that fact. At that precise moment, however, another blonde boy appeared beside me. He and Lysander were exactly the same height, a head taller than me, and both had the same facial structure, body build, and expression. The only differences were their hair; where Lysander's was loose and curling, and other boy's was a little stiffer, more starched. And their clothing was again different, with Lysander in a plain Muggle shirt and jeans, and the other in a dress-jacket that he looked supremely uncomfortable in. I knew exactly who he was, for whom else could be a twin to Lysander?

Lorcan Scamander.

Lorcan didn't seem to notice me, his eyes only on his brother, and he started a small spiel about the guests here. He was halfway through describing my mother in such perfect detail I was delighted, when his blue eyes finally found me. It took him a moment to register who I was and, when he did, he flushed deeply, as he had just been practically writing off each and every one of my cousins.

Lorcan was in my year, and a Ravenclaw. Consequently, I never saw him around much, for the majority of Hufflepuff's classes were with Slytherin and Gryffindor, with only Herbology and Astronomy as the exception, and even then, Fred and I mainly stuck to each other. Well, I stuck to him, anyhow. But that wasn't to say I knew nothing about Lorcan, oh no. I was, in fact, quite well informed about this particular intelligent, daydreaming fourteen year old, because Fred made it his business to know everyone else's business, and of course, he reported each and every one of his findings back to me.

I gave Lorcan a weak smile, which he returned hesitantly. I felt a strong pull towards the boy, a connection if you will, as if here I had found a kindred spirit. Lysander cleared his throat.

"Right, well, Lorc, this is Dominique Weasley, and Dominique, this is Lorcan, my-"

"Brother," I finished. "I know. And it's a little obvious, too."

Before any of us could say anything more, we were gestured to sit down, rather rudely, by my mother. I took a seat in between Lysander and Victoire, which I thought was rather fair. Fred was directly across from me, next to Nimueh, and I could feel him trying to catch my eye. I refused to look over, because I wanted to show him once, just this once, that I could be an independent person, and that not everything in my life counted on him. That I could make friends without his support. That I could get people to like me for me, not for what he said about me.

My father stood and tapped his wine glass lightly with his wand. Small red sparks shot out of its end; my father smiled sheepishly. "Right, then," he began. "I just want to thank everyone for coming here, as well as Hannah and Neville for this sumptuous setting," he inclined his head towards the couple in question, raising his goblet. "And I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas, and we wish you all the happiest New Year to come." He sat down to gentle affirmations and claps of agreement. And, just like the Great Hall, dishes suddenly appeared on the table, the dark teak wood now groaning under the pressure. A grin spread across my face: this was obviously all arranged, for I had been to the Cauldron before and had ordered my meals and had them delivered normally, just like in the Muggle world. But today was a special occasion, and I silently thanked the Longbottoms for their hospitality before helping myself to a slice of Christmas turkey.

I suddenly found myself to be ravenous, and before I knew it my plate was piled high with meat and salad and all manner of delicious wafting scents. I glanced up to see Lysander smirking at me, and I rolled my eyes at him before digging in. It was marvellous.

Beside me, Victoire had a very ladylike, sensible amount of food on her plate, and was picking at it delicately. I suppressed the urge to snort, for she was obviously trying to impress Teddy, who sat on her other side. But looking at him chewing down some dubious looking spiced meat by the shovelful, I rather thought that my sister was fighting a losing battle. Teddy would never care what she looked like, or how she ate. All he cared for was inner beauty.

At that thought, I actually did snort on my food. Since _when_ did my mind become so romantic? Lysander thumped me on the back, and I swallowed painfully before bursting into silent giggles. I don't know what came over me, but something here was so obscenely funny that I couldn't stop laughing. It may have been my grandfather and Harry chatting excitedly about aeroplanes, or my mother listening with round eyes to Luna's tall tales, or my brother and cousin James talking animatedly about an upcoming Quidditch match, for though Vic wasn't fond of the sport and I was hopeless at it, Louis was rather accomplished. At least, that's what Harry, Charlie, Ron, George, Ginny and Angelina said, and I was inclined to agree, since Ginny had once played for England and Harry was even better than her, and the others had various amounts of Quidditch knowledge scattered between them that would probably amount to a nice sized encyclopaedia.

I heard my name whispered across the table, and I glanced up to meet Fred's eyes. He was smiling uncertainly, and all of a sudden my uncontrollable laughter was controllable, and I stopped. "Yes?"

"I mean…" I could tell he was searching for the right words, to apologise, explain, whatever. But I stopped him before things became painful.

"Fred, it's alright. Forget about it," I said, and we both knew I wasn't talking about my laughing fit beforehand. He nodded once, tentatively, and then twice, decisively, and I smiled. Hopefully this meant that things were back to normal between us, though seeing the way Nimueh looked at him now, I doubted they would ever be exactly the same again.

oOoOoOoOo

We had all just finished up with dessert, and each and every one of us was reclining in our wooden chairs, full to bursting with Christmas dinner. I felt a prickling at the back of my neck, and looked to my left to find Lysander staring right at me with the oddest expression on his face, and for the life of me, I couldn't read it.

I turned away and stood, stretching slightly, trying to distract the army of eagles within my insides. Everybody else was standing also, and walking around. I knew we'd all be going home in a half hour or so, and I intended to take advantage of the last few moments here I had left. I turned to face Lysander, who was still staring. I suppressed the urge to run away, fighting all my instincts and approaching him.

"Hey. Are you trying to burn a hole through the back of my head?" The statement was meant to be joking, but Lysander didn't smile. Instead, he rose to his feet, took my hand, and dragged me into the next room. I followed him, bewildered. "Lysander, what are you-?" My question died in my throat as my companion looked at me with eyes of burning blue fire. There was something tense in his stance, and I was suddenly wary, for not for nothing did I have an Auror as an uncle.

He took a single step towards me, but we were already so close that now there were millimetres between the tips of our noses, the surfaces of our lips…

I cut off that train of thought, which was exceedingly hard to do as Lysander's hand was now tucking a stray strand of hair behind my shining red ears. I saw him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Dom," he began. "I meant…I meant what I said, last year…I did. I wanted to get to know you- I _want_ to know you. So, so much, Dominique, and I-" He obviously could not find the words to express himself, but there was such intensity to his expression that I stepped backwards.

But not for nothing was I a klutz, for my ridiculously huge feet tripped me up then, and I was headed towards the ground with a resigned sigh when strong arms encircled me and pulled me to my feet. I was about to say thank you when suddenly our lips were so close, so close, and then, inexplicably, his mouth was on mine.

I squeaked beneath the fierce pressure of his lips, suddenly, stupidly aware of my lack of curves, of the pimple in the centre of my forehead, of the way my heart was thrumming at one thousand miles per hour.

I could taste treacle tart on his lips, a delicious warmth exuding from them that flooded my body with heat. This felt so right, it felt so good, and I didn't stop to wonder for a moment that there may have been a witness to our affection.

He ripped the cap fiercely off of my head and threaded his long pianist's fingers through my short curls of hair. His other arm went around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and the pressure of his kiss forced my lips open. An electric shock ran through me at this gesture, and I was suddenly aware of two things; a terrifying wrongness to our intimacy, and another presence in the room. I ripped myself away from Lysander, gasping for breath, and looked up to meet the eyes of Lorcan Scamander.

My heart plummeted, for his eyes were cold and steel blue, nothing like the soft, warming sky of Lysander's. I turned around to face him, then, he that made my pulse quicken and tap-dance wildly, but he was facing away from me, his hands curled in tight fists by his side. I must have made a small sound, for he turned also, seeing me, and also seeing his brother. His freckled face blanched.

"Lorc-" he began, and by the tone of his voice I knew it couldn't be good. But Lorcan was having none of it, and threw open the door to flee. The heavy wood banged shut behind him, leaving the two of us alone. I looked over at Lysander.

Once again he was staring at me, but now there was anger in his eyes as well as friendliness, as well as desire. I flinched away from his gaze. "Lysander?"

He breathed heavily, nostrils flaring. "Why did you pull away?"

I stopped. Why had I pulled away? It had all felt so right, so perfect…but somehow, in reality, I knew it wasn't. Lysander was obviously just humouring me, maybe for a dare or something like that. This knowledge made my heart crash down into the pit of my stomach. "I don't know," I whispered angrily. I don't know why I was whispering; maybe it had something to do with the smothering atmosphere that engulfed us both. "Why the hell did you kiss me?"

He faltered, staring at me, disbelieving. "Why did I kiss you?" His voice was threaded with shock. "Hmm, I dunno Dom, maybe because I _fancy_ you?"

"No, you don't! Don't try to convince me you do!" It was all suddenly clear to me now; Lysander's abruptness before our kiss, as if anticipating his challenge; Lorcan's disgusted face as he saw Lysander actually live up to the dare; Lysander's furious expression now, the aftermath of something he clearly didn't want to do. "And even if you did, don't you think I deserve a hell of a lot more than that? You can't just waltz in and kiss me, it's- it's…it's disgusting!"

I had said the wrong thing. Lysander's expression darkened considerably, and he stalked past me. "Fine. Fine. If you don't want it, fine. You know, Dom, I thought you had no friends because you were shy. But I guess I was wrong." He was at the door then, and turning the handle he spoke with his back to me. "It's because you're a bitch, and no-one wants you. No-one will ever want you."

The door swung gently closed behind him, taking with it all the cheer of the Christmas holidays, and instead bringing darkness, despair, and a horrible feeling of guilt welling in my gut, pooling behind my eyes. Because Lysander had not sounded like he was lying. He had sounded truthful, completely baring his soul, and I had snatched his declaration from him, stomped on it and tore it to pieces before his eyes.

My knees crumpled beneath me, my head was in my hands, and only then did the tears come.

oOoOoOoOo

It was a lonely train ride back to Hogwarts. My compartment was full of laughing, chattering students, but I heard nothing, felt only a hollow emptiness scooped out beside my heart. I rested my head against the window, watching the small droplets of rain slide down against the frosted glass.

Unable to bear it any longer, I stood, murmured some excuse, and left the compartment. I wandered down along the corridor, not sure where I was headed, but looking for one person in particular. And yes, there he was, through the sliding door, blonde hair mussed, blue eyes sparkling-

Blue eyes sparkling at the girl beside him. I flickered my gaze down, and saw their hands entwined. A terrible feeling rose up within me, and the window beside me shattered, showering me with shards of sharp glass. I took a deep breath. The last time I had caused accidental magic, I had been ten.

I waved my wand to repair the damage, but all the spell did was the jiggle the glass around a little on the floor. I looked at the broken shards, and they reminded me of the way my heart felt at that moment; broken, bewildered, unable to stitch itself back up.

A muttered _Reparo_ behind me made me turn. Nimueh James stood there, alone, an expression of understanding in her eyes. She followed my gaze and saw Lysander. The understanding deepened into pity. She slid open the compartment door behind her, revealing a mercifully empty carriage. I stepped inside, following her, and she shut the door behind me.

Nothing needed to be said. We just sat in companionable silence, both listening to the wild tattoo of rain pounding around us, both staring at the soft intricacies of the carpet beneath our feet. Nimueh understood something of heartbreak, and I felt a strong connection towards this brown-pigtailed Slytherin, sitting there stiffly, bold as brass. We were opposites, so unlike each other it seemed impossible to be friends.

But become friends we did, that day, and when asked years later how it happened, neither one of us could answer, both just remembering the pitter-patter of the falling rain outside.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Yippee! It's up! With DRAMA, TENSION, SUSPENSE! Can any of you guess what'll happen in Dom's fifth year? And I'm not just talking about O.W.L.s! I'm so sorry for the long, long wait again. Hopefully this chappie lived up to your expectations. Oh, and see that little button below? The one that says_ review_? PUSH IT. Please. (:


	6. Grief, Love and Everything In Between

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 5, Grief, Love and Everything In Between**

_Dominique's POV_

* * *

><p>The moon was full tonight, and I felt a small shiver slide up my spine as I stared into its pitted ivory depths. I recalled that werewolves came about at the full moon, and I felt afraid, but then berated myself, for Teddy's father had been a werewolf and, according to our Defence textbooks and our family, one of the bravest wizards who had ever lived.<p>

I sighed. It was two weeks into the first term, and already our workload was sky high. I had begun to believe that teachers enjoyed seeing us fail our exams, and I frequently saw to giving them the evil eye upon entering and leaving class. Following Fred's lead, of course.

I sighed again. I had been seeing far less of Fred lately, as he was always with Nimueh, his girlfriend of eight months. I was alright with it, really; Nimueh and I had become quite close last year, and she was one of the few people I felt comfortable around nowadays. But without Fred, without my comfort blanket, I had taken to wandering the school alone, sitting by myself at meals and during classes, because Fred was taking some entirely different subjects to me. Of course, we both had Herbology, Defence, Transfiguration, Potions and Charms together, but I took Care of Magical Creatures while he had Ancient Runes, and he had Divination when I had Muggle Studies. And even in our core classes we shared, we seemed to work together less and less, especially if we had that class with the Slytherins, whereupon he gravitated straight towards Nimueh and I was left to my own devices.

I had come to dread the hours spent in the dank Potions dungeon, as I almost always found myself seated beside a snotty nosed fellow who had never even bothered to say hello. Fred and Nimueh would while away the time together, she helping him along, as she was really quite accomplished. Of course, she offered to guide me through some difficult recipes – _Forgetfulness Potion, anyone?_ – but I declined. It just didn't seem right to steal her away from Fred.

I was also beginning to hate any classes we took with the Gryffindors. Fred was with me then, and I tried to act normal around him, but I couldn't stop my heart giving a small _tap-a-tap_ every time Lysander brushed past me. It was hard to tell whether he was still furious or not; after almost nine months, I was sort of hoping he'd be fine, but all that had passed between us had been only politeness, extreme to the verge of stiff.

Fred, of course, being the nosy bugger that he is, noticed our discomfort together immediately, and accosted me straightaway. I tried to be evasive, but once you got Fred going on a matter, he never rested until it was solved. And so I told him; the truth, yes, but certainly not all of it. All I said was that Lysander and I had argued that December day, nothing more. I could tell Fred didn't quite buy this, but he was willing, for once, to let it go.

I don't know why I didn't share the actual manner of Lysander and my disagreement with Fred. Maybe it just felt too personal, the kiss, or maybe it just felt weird discussing the matter with a guy, even if he was my best friend. I suspected the latter, for only days after it had transpired, Nimueh had wheedled the situation out of me and helped me through it all, only after promising not to tell another soul, of course.

I wondered now, staring out the window into the darkened night sky, my forehead resting against the cool glass, if Lysander had ever really cared. He had seemed to, yes, but upon returning to school I had discovered that he had found himself a girlfriend. Of course, she only lasted about a month or so, but still, I felt betrayed. And maybe the blonde boy sensed it, for whenever we came near he would avert his beautiful gaze from mine and look studiously towards the floor.

After a while of this, I just stopped trying to make eye contact.

The loud hooting of an owl drew me out of my ruminations. I glanced towards the watch that rested on my bedside table; it was half-past two in the morning. I didn't have classes on today, as it was Saturday, but I supposed I had better try and get some sleep, if only to study upon waking.

I stood and stretched, climbing into my four-poster, extremely careful not to make the bedsprings creak. The deep breathing of my dorm mates was soothing, and I didn't want to disturb them. I lay down carefully, wriggling beneath the covers, and took a deep breath before closing my eyes.

_Think sleepy thoughts…_

I tossed and turned for a while, getting comfortable, but even then if was at least another half-hour before sleep claimed me. And with it came the dreams.

_Darkness. Silvery fog up ahead, obstructing vision. A howl in the distance, shrieking like nails down a blackboard. The fog lifting, parting; a full moon revealed. A werewolf on the prowl._

_The scene shifting, changing. A mass of bodies, a crowd of students in their black robes. All faces turned up toward the sky, humming a soft sort of melody. As one, they turn, and all are wearing the face of Lysander. Their mouths open, they scream, but the scream is a werewolf howl, and behind them, the stars go out._

_Darkness again. A whisper, nameless faces, fingers of smoke prying open the black; a blaze of light behind. Sunshine on a meadow, where a boy is dancing. He turns, and it is Fred, his dark curls bouncing. Giving a wave, he spins again, and suddenly it is not he, but Nimueh, and blood is pouring from a gaping wound in her chest, and she shrieks, her hair lengthening, lightening, her features changing to Victoire's. She collapses to the ground, face down, shaking._

_Rolling over, it is no longer Victoire, but Lysander again, and when he screams, no sound escapes. A loping figure appears in the distance, silhouetted by the sunshine. A wolf, walking on hind legs. Darkness descends again, and instead of a moon, all that appears is an electric blue eye, hovering in midair…_

I awoke sweating, feeling ready to retch. Glancing over at the alarm clock, I saw that it was only six in the morning. I shivered, able to remember every part of my nightmare in miniscule detail. It frightened me, for usually I instantly forgot what I had dreamed. Why was this so different?

It was strange.

Shaking off the sick feeling in my mind, my stomach, my heart, I stood. Throwing on a shirt over my singlet, I padded to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I rested in front of the mirror for a long time, examining the careful circles beneath my eyes, as if an artist had taken his paintbrush to me as I was sleeping. I shivered again. Today was not beginning too well.

oOoOoOoOo

The Great Hall was quiet at this time in the morning; sitting down at the Hufflepuff table, I could only see a couple of Gryffindors chatting quietly. Not even the teachers seemed to be about, but I supposed that six-thirty in the morning was just too early for their old bones to become active.

Absentmindedly spreading jam on a slice of toast, I looked up towards the enchanted ceiling. It was a daytime sky, clouds shifting pleasantly above. Damn; I had missed sunrise. I loved seeing it happen right before my eyes. I changed the direction of my gaze towards the open windows lining the Hall. I whistled twice and, a minute later, a small brown shape came swooping down.

The owl landed lightly, perfectly balancing on the fruit bowl. I untied the string around its leg, taking the newspaper from its binding, and slipped five Knuts into the little drawstring pouch on the owl's other talon. It was early for the owl post, but since I was always up at the crack of dawn, I had arranged the delivery owl to meet me earlier than usual. I preferred reading the paper in silence, without the clamour of voices surrounding me.

Unrolling the _Prophet_, I glanced at the heading and my mouth fell open, the piece of toast in my outstretched hand falling back onto the plate. I swallowed, hard, and instead of skimming the news like I usually did, I read the title article from start to finish.

_WEREWOLF ATTACK SPARKS FEAR_

_A werewolf attack near the outskirts of Mould-on-the-Wold yesterday evening sparked terrifying reactions and rumours amongst its townsfolk. The attacked, an infant, died instantly, but cause of death was immediately known to Auror investigators. Harry Potter, Head of the department, spoke to our reporters hours after the incident occurred: 'This child's death was a tragedy, and I'm sure all of Mould-on-the-Wold will be affected by this for a long time to come. But let's not get it into our heads that werewolves are bad people; some are yes, but most are genuinely terrified of their condition. Of course my department will apprehend the culprit and see him behind bars, but we'd like all involved to remember that most lycanthropes need help and support, and if there are any out there, we'd like them to come forward, just so we can offer our assistance.'_

_Potter and a select team of Aurors are headed out into the field today to catch and arrest the offender. Check tomorrow's _DailyProphet_ for any updates on the situation._

_Report continued pages 2, 3, and 5._

The blood froze in my veins as I read that penultimate sentence. _Headed out into the field…_ I remembered an incident in my first or second year, when Harry got badly injured during a raid on a necromancer's house. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, seeing him lying there in St. Mungo's, bandaged and white as the sheets he was wrapped in. I was seized with an irrational fear, now, that this mission would turn out even worse than that one did.

Someone cleared their throat beside me, and I jumped. Turning, I met the jade green eyes of my cousin Albus. His resemblance to his father was so uncanny that in that moment, I felt like I was looking at an eleven-year-old Harry, poor and petrified, yet always ready to face Voldemort no matter what.

"Dominique?" Albus whispered, his eyes darting anywhere but my face as he spoke. "Do you think…is Dad going to be alright?"

I blinked. Obviously Albus had heard the news through the grapevine, though who would tell him this early, I had no idea. A letter from Ginny, probably.

I tried to convince myself that Harry would be coming home safe and well, yet a small nagging part of my brain refused to cooperate. I couldn't say that to Al, though, so I just plastered a smile onto my face and nodded. "Course he will, Albus. Your Dad's been through worse than this and come out fine, remember? He'll stay safe, don't you worry."

Albus nodded, but still looked so small, so frightened and unsure, that I leant forward and gave him a quick hug. He stiffened for a moment, and then melted into the gesture, leaning his dark head against my shoulder. I kissed the crown of his head lightly, and he drew back. Still smiling, though now I knew it looked forced and fake, I bade him to run along and have some fun.

And he did run off, but I highly doubted that his Saturday would ever constitute as enjoyable, not with so much weighing on his mind.

I turned back to the paper before me and was just contemplating whether or not to continue consuming my now cold slice of toast when I felt yet another presence beside me. I held my tongue to stop any inflammatory comments pouring from it, and swivelled once more, ready to face Albus again, or even James. But no; it was definitely not a relation of mine I was staring at. No relation of mine had beautiful blue eyes, a freckled face and loose blonde curls of hair. And certainly no relation of mine would smile at me like that.

I coughed quietly, disguising my little gasp of surprise. "Lysander."

"Dominique." Godric-damn that stupid, stupid grin!

"May I help you?"

"Actually, yes. You know that Herbology assignment?"

"Ah…yeah…" I was starting to guess where he was going with this, and I didn't like it one bit.

"Well, if I don't ask someone for help, I know I'll bomb. And you're the best in our class," he said a little louder, overriding my protests. "So you could help me, right?"

"Well…yeah, I suppose."

"Great. By the lake then, at nine?"

"Yeah, sure." My heart was thumping wildly in my chest, and I could feel my cheeks flame red for some absurd reason. Lysander began to turn away, but some ridiculous part of me reached out to grab his hand and turn him back around. Under the scrutiny of those beautiful eyes, I felt my tongue turn to lead, but I managed to spit out a few choice words. "Lysander, are we- I mean- are we alright?"

He cocked his head quizzically at me.

"I mean- last year, when we- what I want to say is- I guess-" Curse, curse, curse my stupid mind! "I'm sorry, for that, I- I think…is it- is that okay?"

"You're sorry?" He grinned. "For what, kissing me?"

How he had the nerve to just throw that comment about! "If I rightly recall, Lysander," I said, my teeth gritted. "_You_ kissed _me_. And _no_, I'm not sorry for that- I mean, yes, I am- wait, no, I'm…"

He continued to stand there, smiling insolently at me. I gave up. "Fine. _Okay, then_. I'll see you by the lake at nine." I stood and brushed past him, fully intending to make some sort of dramatic exit when his hand shot out and grasped my arm. I paused, thinking it rude to continue walking away when he clearly wanted to keep talking. "Yes?"

He didn't meet my eye, focusing instead on something just to the left of my head. I bit back a sharp comment on the fact; I didn't need to anger him again. "I just wanted to say it was really nice what you did there." I stared. "With Albus, your cousin, I mean."

"Oh."

"And…I misjudged you. You're not a bitch at all, Dom."

I swallowed, scrutinising his face for any signs of him lying to me. I found none. "Thank you, then, Lysander." I tried a smile, and this time his gaze met mine, no longer vulnerable but annoyingly confident. I sighed. Back to his old self, then.

"See you."

"Yeah, bye."

.

.

_**(an interlude)**_

_The Owlery was cool at this time of the morning. I didn't mind the cold, not really. I liked the company up here, with the barn, snowy, sooty, elf and speckled owls either fluttering around high above me or slumbering, their heads beneath their wings._

_Most people came up here to deliver their mail, but I liked the solitary quietness, a place where I could sift through my thoughts and dreams. And today was no exception, since my nightmare had left me plenty to contemplate. _

_Did it mean anything that I had dreamed of wolves, and then awoken to news of a werewolf attack? I had dreamed of them often enough beforehand, and nothing had ever come of it, but last night had been particularly bad…the blood, the howling, the moon a bright electric blue. What on earth did it all mean?_

_And _why_ did I see the future?_

_**(resume)**_

.

.

I didn't mean to fall into the lake. Really, I didn't. It just sort of…happened.

I had always been fascinated by the elements. When I was a kid, my grandfather Arthur had given me a Muggle story on them. It was only a fairytale, a fantasy, but the ideas stuck with me well after my childhood ended. Of course earth had always been my favourite, but water and air had also intrigued me. Fire was certainly off limits: I had always been scared of the roaring flames, and shrank away from anyone who lit a match.

Standing by the lake, then, at two minutes to nine o'clock, something in the rippling currents below me seemed to draw me in, closer and closer. I removed my shoes and socks, rolled up my leggings. It wasn't until Lysander's voice startled me that I realised I was waist-deep in the lake. As it was, the suddenness of his interruption was all my clumsy feet needed to spin me around, trip me up and land me headfirst into the water.

I surfaced spluttering, blinking the water from my eyes. Lysander stood on the bank of the lake, his hands on his hips. With the sun directly behind him, he looked like he was glowing. He looked like a golden angel.

_Stop it!_ I chided myself. Haven't you been through _all this_ before?

I hoisted myself up onto the grass and sat there for a moment or two, catching my breath back. I couldn't understand why Lysander was looking in the complete opposite direction; until I glanced down and realised the water had made my white shirt see-through. I flushed.

My bag was by the great tree next to the lake, and I quickly squelched my way over and fetched my jacket from its depths. The feeling of pulling a dry garment over a wet one was unpleasant, but compared to the alternative, where everything, and I mean _everything_, could be seen…well, it was really no contest.

I cleared my throat once I was presentable. Lysander turned, and I'll admit I was shocked to see him blushing. Lysander Scamander_ certainly_ didn't blush…did he? He walked over and sat down by my bag, looking expectantly up at me until I joined him, grimacing uncomfortably at the damp sensations riddling my body. He saw my awkwardness and grinned. I flipped him the bird.

He raises his eyebrows. "Moved on from eye rolling, have we, Dom? I must say, I'm impressed."

I didn't deign to respond. Lysander stared at me for a long moment, then turned away, filching around in his own school bag for his Herbology assignment. I cleared my throat.

He found it, and pulled it out with great difficulty. The parchment was all bent and scrunched, and what I could see the handwriting was cramped and messy. I snatched the papers from him before he could say anything, and scanned them over. I sighed. "These are absolutely hopeless, Lysander. You've just written out exactly what it says in the textbook! Honestly…" I trailed off to find Lysander positively gawking at me. I shifted slightly in my position. "What?" I snapped defensively. "It's true!"

"Merlin, Dom, I know it's true! It's just…" He paused, and I could tell he was fishing for the right words. I steeled myself. "It's just I've never seen you looking so…fierce."

I stared.

He grinned.

"Right." I was at a loss. What could I say to that? And so I decided to do what I do best: I ignored it. "Right, then. So, if you're going to write a proper essay on this, you really need to understand the basics…" I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes. "You do understand the basics?"

"Well…" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Huh. I do believe that's the first time you've ever been lost for words, Lysander." He just looked at me. "So, we'll go through this first," I said, pulling out a thick Herbology volume from my bag. "And then this, and these." I pulled out another book, and then various bits of parchment which I had written on over my various years at Hogwarts. Lysander just stared.

"You're joking," he finally said. "I can't look through all that! The assignment's due next week, Dom!"

I nodded. "I know. Which is why I'm helping you." He looked up at me, meeting my gaze with his fiery blue eyes. I was spellbound for a moment, then shook my head slightly to clear the sensation. "And I might let you have a look at mine," I stated grudgingly. "Only," I began, seeing delight written across his face, "Only if you agree to work your hardest beforehand, okay?" Lysander nodded. "Okay?"

"Yes, Dom." he said, his voice strong. "Okay."

"Well, then. Let's get to work."

It was certainly a challenge tutoring Lysander. He simply refused to believe that he was in the wrong until I was absolutely proven right. But I supposed that was the Gryffindor in him. _A bunch of stubborn mules, they are._ But it was strangely enjoyable, chatting to him, bossing him about almost as if we were friends. Were we?

But no matter how many times he made me laugh, I just couldn't ignore the gnawing sensation at the back of my mind regarding the events of the morning. A werewolf attack… There hadn't been one for years, but surely Harry would be able to handle it? Surely…_surely_ he'd be okay?

But try as I might, I just couldn't convince myself as easily as I had convinced Albus, because I knew, deep down in my gut, that this time, this time, there was something terribly wrong. That this time, Harry wouldn't make it out unscathed.

I just hoped that all the blood, all the screams… I just hoped they'd only been a nightmare.

oOoOoOoOo

I fell asleep that night almost instantly, which was an abnormality in itself; usually it took forever for my brain to shut down. But not tonight.

_Fog, lots of it. Far more than last time, so dense nothing else can be seen. Swirling, consuming. Stalking its prey._

_A beam of moonlight piercing the heavy grey. One single glowing line making a path to follow onwards. A dangerous feeling; footsteps approaching._

_A shadow, only decipherable as it is darker than the surrounding mist. A shuffling step forward, into the moonlight. A shock of ebony hair above a pale-as-milk face._

_Harry._

_Blood blossoms from a wound in his thigh; another awkward step forward, but any more is impossible. The pain is too great. Harry falling, falling to his knees._

_An outstretched hand, pleading for help. Thudding to the ground, red liquid pooling beneath his body, spreading like the petals of a crimson flower._

_And somewhere, a werewolf howls._

I jerked awake, my brow and cheeks wet with tears and sweat. The rest of the girls in my dorm slumbered on, oblivious, even though when I checked my watch, it was six thirty in the morning. I got up out of bed, threw on a dress. I couldn't just lie there, waiting for something to happen. I had to find out what was wrong. _If there was something wrong…_ I had to find out if my dream had come true.

oOoOoOoOo

This time, there was no-one down in the Great Hall. It was eerie being alone in such a vast space, and a small shiver slid its way up my spine. Whistling twice, I waited for my owl to arrive.

She did, in a flurry of wings. I thanked and paid her, and removed the paper from her outstretched leg. Ripping it open, I stuck my head into its depths and did not look up once until I had scoured every inch of the news.

Nothing.

Not even a single mention of the mission. It was as if yesterday had never happened… This should have calmed my nerves, for surely a story that was on the front page the day before wouldn't completely disappear unless absolutely nothing had happened… But the butterflies in my stomach kept on dancing.

I stared at the array of food before me. I had no appetite; the sight of a steaming slice of toast made me queasy. I stood up quickly from the table, and it was only then I saw the other presence in the room.

Professor Longbottom.

I paused, confused. He saw me staring and began to approach. He looked grave, and my palms began to sweat. He stopped right in front of me, hesitating slightly. I stared up at him, a good head and a half shorter. He swallowed. I did the same.

"Dominique," he began. He was the only teacher in the whole school who called us students by our first names. "I'm afraid…you'll have to come with me, please." He turned to leave.

"Why?"

He stopped and faced me again. He was clearly uncomfortable. "Dominique, I don't think it's my place to say…"

"Please." The look on his face was slowly making my insides go numb. "What's happened? Is it Harry?"

"Harry?" For a moment, Neville looked perfectly confused. "No, no, Dom…no, it's not Harry."

I smiled, but something in his face, his stance, cautioned me. "Then who…?"

"It's Teddy, Dominique. Teddy Lupin." My heart stopped beating. "He's in St Mungo's now…they need you all to be there."

I nodded dumbly. Neville seemed to want to say something more, but something in my face must've convinced him otherwise, for he turned abruptly and strode off, gesturing for me to follow him. I did, still unable to process the information he had given me. _Teddy Lupin…St Mungo's…need you all to be there_… To what? To ease his passing?

And inexplicably, into my mind sprang two very different images: Victoire and Teddy laughing together, holding hands, seeing nothing around them but each other; and the ashen face of Harry, slumbering fitfully in his St Mungo's bed. They were memories, one warm and welcoming, the other far from it. The latter image was one I hated to recall, one where I had felt the world as I knew it collapse around me. Harry and another of his Aurors had been gravely injured on a mission…the night it happened was the longest night of my life, siting in the waiting room of St Mungo's, waiting for the Healers to tell us everything would be all right… And they did tell us that, eventually, only after the most terrible time of tears and grief. The relief in Ginny's face at the good news had been something almost tangible, something we could all cling on to…

Neville's voice drew me out of my reverie. I startled and tripped over my own feet. Luckily I didn't fall completely over; I only stumbled and then righted myself, blushing. Neville cleared his throat.

"I need you to go and wake Fred, Dominique, and bring him to the Headmaster's office." I nodded. "I'll handle everyone else up in Gryffindor, all right?"

I finally found my voice. "But what about Lucy and Louis in Ravenclaw tower? And Al in Slytherin?" Neville hesitated. "I'll get them too. You just…" I paused; suddenly realising I was giving my Herbology Professor orders. "Just please wake Victoire up as soon as possible. She- she should've been the first to know." Neville nodded decisively and took off. I stared after him for a long moment before taking off in the opposite direction, headed for my common room.

When I entered the kitchen corridor, I breathed in the intoxicating scent wafting from the house-elves' ovens, for though I was still queasy, they could never cease to make my stomach rumble. I hurried on, however, for today there was no cause for enjoyment. My heart clenched at the thought of Teddy.

Inside the common room, I pushed open the fifth round door set into the left side of the room. I was immediately accosted by snores and drones and other such noises, but I ignored them, making my way over to the bed farthest form the entrance. Fred's sleeping form was in it, his sheets all tangled by his feet. I approached and shook his shoulders none too gently. He grunted and opened an eyelid. Seeing me, he sat up quickly.

"Merlin, Dom! What the hell?" I stayed silent, and he obviously sensed my agitation for he got up out of his bed without another word, pulling on a t-shirt over is bare chest. "Lead the way," he said, and followed me out the door.

I got my tongue working again, and told him everything- well, almost everything. My dreams seemed too personal to share with Fred. When I finished, he was pale beneath his burnished tan. "Alright," he manages to say. "I'll go get Albus, and you can grab Lou and Lucy." I nodded, knowing that he was well-versed in the Slytherin common room, due to him and Nimueh's relationship. And I knew where Ravenclaw tower was, because in my brother's first year I'd often had to wander around with him to stop him from getting lost. "See you," Fred said, and set off towards the dungeons. I wheeled the other way, beginning to run. We couldn't waste any time.

It was easy to get confused going up towards Ravenclaw tower, but luckily Louis hadn't been the confident teenager he was now back in his first year, and had often begged me to accompany him back to his common room. After what seemed like an age, I finally found myself climbing the dizzying spiral staircase that led up to the common room. Merlin, I hated this thing.

I finally reached the top and, without stopping to admire the heart-stopping drop below me, reached out and banged twice on the bronze eagle door knocker. Its beak opened, and it spoke.

"Only one colour, but not one size,

Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies,

Present in sun, but not in rain,

Doing no harm, feeling no pain.

What am I?"

I paused. This riddle was new, one I had never heard before. Damn it! I chewed my lip, thinking about the words for a long moment, when suddenly it hit me. "A shadow!" I yelled at the knocker. "A shadow!"

"Correct," the eagle said, and the door swung open.

I had never actually stepped inside the Ravenclaw tower, always feeling rather lost and awkward amongst all their bright sparks. It was airy and bright, with a strange majestic quality. But I wasn't here to admire it.

I faced two spiral staircases, one on the left, one on the right. I hurried up the closer of the two and peeked in through the open door. Yes! They were sleeping first year boys. I climbed higher, opening a couple more doors until I finally spotted my brother's tell-tale blonde Veela hair shining in the sunlight. I walked over and shook him awake. His reaction was almost the exact same as Fred's, but I quickly spat out the story to him. He looked horrified and jumped out of bed immediately. I looked away as he got dressed, and then it was me who followed him out of the dorm. We collected Lucy on the way, and I explained things to her in a loud whisper. Louis was a half head taller than us both, and perhaps it was that that made me and Lucy let him lead the way. As soon as we were off that dreadful staircase, we started sprinting. I had no idea where the Headmaster's office was, but Louis seemed to know. That fact made me suspicious, but I brushed the thought away. _No distractions!_

We stopped outside an extraordinarily ugly stone gargoyle, one I had passed on numerous occasions. "Pepper Imps," Louis said. Lucy and I exchanged glances, but before I could speak, the statue sprung aside and the wall behind it was splitting in half, opening to reveal a revolving spiral staircase. We hopped on and were deposited at a great oak door with a knocker in the shape of a griffon. Louis pushed open the door and we stepped inside, where everyone else was waiting.

"Finally!" Victoire snapped at us. She was crying. "Took your bloody time." I glowered at her, but Neville intervened.

"That's enough. You've to go to St Mungo's now, all," he did a quick head count, "All ten of you. The Headmaster has connected our Floo network to theirs for today only. So here you are," he said, handing us each some Floo powder. He finished with Rose, who was actually shaking where she stood. "Go on, then!"

Victoire stepped forward first, and disappeared in a roar of green flames. Everyone else quickly followed, me at the rear, and my last sight before being engulfed by the fire was of Neville staring sadly at the sleeping portrait of Hogwarts' old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

oOoOoOoOo

The clock on the whitewashed wall ticked noon. We were all sitting in the cramped waiting room, the majority of us on the floor. I looked around at the scene in a curiously detached way.

There was Harry across from me, holding Ginny tight in his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder. Victoire was sitting as still as a stone on the seat beside them, her beautiful face wet and blotchy from tears. Louis, James and Albus sat together rather awkwardly, bunched up in a corner. My brother was whispering hurriedly to the little eleven-year-old, and he looked agitated. He caught my eye and grimaced.

On the other side of the room, Rose, Hugo, Lily, Ron and Hermione were sitting in a rough circle together, and my parents hovered above them, my dad stroking my mother's hair back from her brow. I looked away. Lucy and Molly were with their parents, Fred and Roxanne with their dad as Angelina was away with her family. Grandma Molly and Grandfather Arthur were there, talking quietly to Charlie. The last people in the room were Teddy's best friend Nellie, her tattoos, piercings and red leather jacket looking very much out of place in such a sterile environment, and Andromeda, looking as tired and careworn as I had ever seen her. Nellie was sitting right next to me, and caught my eye. She winked, and smiled weakly. I smiled back, knowing how hard it must be for her and Andromeda, of all people.

Finally, finally, at two minutes past twelve, the senior Healer opened the door we had all been staring at for the past four or five hours. Everyone's heads snapped to attention. The Healer shifted slightly, and then- he smiled. _Smiled._

"He can have a few visitors now," he said. "But not," he added hurriedly, "Not all of you. Four will be the most at a time, I'm afraid." I slumped back down into my seat. I was definitely not going to be amongst those first four.

Victoire stood immediately and stepped forward without any hesitation whatsoever. Harry and Andromeda got up too, the former gently depositing his wife down on the chair, but when the two women walked inside, Harry paused. "Nellie," he said softly. "He'll want to see you too." She startled, then stood quickly, banging her head on the wall. She swore and rubbed at it, following Harry inside. They shut the door.

The tension inside the small room dissipated at once. Fred had obviously cracked a joke, and those standing near him – his parents, Roxie, Hugo and Lily – began to laugh. Soon Lucy and Molly were giggling too, and even Ginny cracked a smile. It was all right. It's going to be all right, I thought.

I grinned, the laughter infectious. _Everything was going to be alright…_

.

.

_**(an interlude)**_

_We whooshed out of the fireplace in the Headmaster's office at five thirteen that afternoon. The Headmaster himself was sitting idly at his desk, tapping his quill on the bridge of his nose. He glanced up when we entered and smiled, not saying a word. Everybody trouped past him and out the door. I lingered last, trying to catch a glimpse of the occupant in the largest portrait that was situated right behind the Headmaster's chair, but it was empty, showing nothing but an old chintz armchair._

_**(resume)**_

.

.

The next day was a Monday, and my first class was Care of Magical Creatures, without Fred. I bid him goodbye at breakfast and hurried down to the paddocks that ringed Hagrid's hut. Our teacher, Hagrid himself, was nowhere to be seen, but the rest of the students were already milling about. I sat down on a low stone wall by myself, turning to fish around in my schoolbag for my books, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I sighed; I knew this had been coming.

I lifted my gaze to meet Lysander's, smiling. He smiled back, sitting down beside me.

"So," he began. "I missed you yesterday." I gave him a look, and he blushed. _What?_ "No, not like that," he amended hurriedly. "I mean- I just mean you weren't there." I nodded slowly. "James told me what happened," he said. "And I guess I just wanted to say…I'm sorry…?"

I cleared my throat. "Thanks."

The silence descended into awkwardness, which I was absolutely amazed by. Lysander Scamander was never without something to say! What on _earth_ was wrong with the world?

Lysander shifted beside me. "Look, Dom…that Herbology assignment's due tomorrow, so could you help me this afternoon with it? Like, a lot?" I rolled my eyes at him. "I did do _some_ yesterday…but it was so hard, Dom!" He looked at me pleadingly, and suddenly I was struck with a memory of the same pleading look on Harry's face in my dream two nights ago, as he fell to the ground, lifeless as a limpet. I swallowed. "Dom?" Lysander sounded uncertain. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, coughing to clear my congested throat. "Fine, yeah," I croaked out. "And sure, I'll help you this afternoon. I have Potions last, you?"

"Transfiguration."

"Okay, cool. I can meet you down by the Entrance Hall."

"Alright, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Hagrid walked over then, and our conversation fell flat. But, somehow, the silence wasn't so uncomfortable anymore. It felt normal, felt like being with a friend. And he_ is_ my friend, I thought suddenly, surprised. We're friends…aren't we?

After Care of Magical Creatures, Lysander and I had Charms together. We walked up towards the castle in silence, me looking down at my feet, making sure I didn't trip over. I didn't know what to feel at that moment, for yes, I was happy I was with Lysander, but then I was confused, for he seemed to like me, and surely that wasn't possible? I was also worried about Teddy, even though the both the Healers and Nellie (who was training to be one) said he was fine, and I was freaked out by my dreams, which had come scarily true. Thank Merlin I hadn't had another last night.

Lysander seemed to sense the distress going on inside of me, for he said to me in a whisper, "Look, Dom, are you sure you're okay? You just look a little green."

I managed to nod. Get a _grip_ on yourself, Dominique Apolline! I chided myself. There's nothing _whatsoever_ for you to worry about! "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. Just a little tired." When I spoke, I was glad to hear that my voice sounded confident. Lysander cast me a disbelieving sidelong glance, but didn't say anything more. We continued on together until we got to the Charms classroom, where I sat up the front with Fred and he sat at the back. He paused, looking at me for a long moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, then. See you later, Dom," he said, and walked over to his friends. I cast him a quick look over my shoulder, but then saw Fred waiting for me and hurried forward to slip into the seat beside him. He stared at me.

"New boyfriend, Dom?" he smiled teasingly, and to my horror I blushed.

"No, shut up!" I hissed, but any more conversation was cut off by the entrance of Professor Flitwick. It was a theory lesson today, and with a resigned sigh I heaved out my Charms textbook from my bag. I was hopeless at this subject, but even as I was preparing myself for a horrific double lesson of not understanding anything, a small ember of happiness glowed inside of me. Lysander liked me…he _liked_ me! He had practically said so himself!

I smiled and opened my book.

oOoOoOoOo

The clanging bell rang loudly in the dungeon, and echoed terribly in my eardrums. Everybody else had already packed up, and were now racing towards the exit door as if their lives depended on it. I saw Fred and Nimueh leave, holding hands, and smiled to myself. I was taking my time, as I always did, for me going too fast at something would be like setting a hurricane loose in Diagon Alley; not such a good idea.

I bid farewell to our Professor and made my slow way along towards the Entrance Hall. I wished I could go faster, but there was a crush of students about me that made it almost impossible to even breathe, let alone run. But, finally, I spotted the white marble staircase in the distance and sighed in relief. Lysander was standing right beside it, leaning against the railing, and his sharp blue eyes captured mine easily. No doubt it was child's play to spot my red hair, even short as it was, amongst the throng of blonde, brown and black. He grinned.

I walked up next to him. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the door. I nodded and gladly stepped outside into the fresh air. I breathed in the crisp scent of autumn, feeling reenergised after the agony of Potions class. We walked together, talking about our last lesson casually. I was glad I no longer blushed when Lysander looked directly at me, but still I cursed my wildly thrumming heart, for surely he could hear it from this close a distance.

We stopped by the lake and sat down. I felt a strange sense of déjà vu, clearly remembering the study session we spent in this exact spot on Saturday. We both got out our books and assignments, mine on a five foot long roll of parchment, Lysander's unfinished work barely ten inches. I suppressed a smile.

"Alright, so we should start," I began, but Lysander interrupted me.

"No, Dominique. Not until you tell me what's up." I looked at him in shock. "Don't think you can lie to me. I know something's wrong, and it's not just Teddy, is it?"

I shook my head automatically before releasing what I had done. "What? No, everything's fine, totally fine, Lysander!"

This time it was him who rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, come on, Dom. You couldn't lie to save your life. What's up?"

"The sky," I joked feebly, but sighed when he just scrutinised me all the harder. I felt an overwhelming desire to confess, to just tell someone about my dreams. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Open, close. Open close.

I startled at a light touch on my palm, and glanced down to see Lysander's hand holding mine. I looked up at him, and he squeezed my fingers gently. The pressure was enough to shock me into speaking, and I told him. I told him everything. Once I started, it was impossible to stop the endless spill of information and events from my mouth, and once it was all out there, every last bit, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Lysander was silent a long time. He stared off into the distance, thinking. Just thinking. I swallowed.

"Dom," he finally said. "You want to know what I think?" I nodded vehemently. "I think it's all one big coincidence." I stared. "You said you dreamed about a werewolf attack, but you also said you've dreamed about them loads of times before, right?" At my nod, he continued. "And your second dream; it was Teddy who was hurt, not Harry, like you thought. That second dream was probably brought on by what you read about that werewolf attack, and Harry going out on that mission, right?" I nodded slowly. "So it's all one big coincidence, that's what I think. Dom?"

I was processing this information. Of course, it all made sense…the terror in my mind had twisted and warped my thoughts, fitting things together that didn't fit in reality. I cleared my throat. "Huh, wow, Lysander. You…you're right. Totally right." I looked up at him, horrified at the tears I felt pricking my eyes. I blinked them away. "Oh, Merlin, I feel so _stupid!_"

I turned away from him then, ashamed at my panicked reaction to what were only a couple of silly nightmares. I felt a hand on my arm then, and Lysander spun me back around. His face was only inches from mine, and I could feel a flush building up within me, rising like a tide over my face. He ignored it, instead just lifting his other arm and cupping my cheek in his strong, warm hand.

"Dominique," he whispered. "Don't you say that. Don't you ever say that. You're not stupid, Dom. Not in a million years." He leaned closer. "You're beautiful," he murmured, and closed his mouth on mine.

His kiss felt like sunshine on my lips. His arms circled my waist and pulled me closer, until I was sitting in his lap. His fingers left feather-light touches on my skin that burned and sparked like a spell. I was trapped by him, enraptured in his stunning scent of lavender and honey and chocolate, and I had never felt so good, so safe, in my entire life.

His lips parted from mine and he looked at me through barely open eyes, the blue only visible through snakelike slits. "Merlin, Dom," he whispered, but before he could say anything more, I leaned in and kissed him again. His arms tightened around me, then, and his lips crushed against mine, all fierceness and fire. I melted into his embrace and smiled against the kiss, feeling like a baby phoenix reborn from its ashes; feeling alive, feeling happy, feeling perfect.

Being in love.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Phew. It's finally up! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and I'm so sorry for the wait. Hopefully it's worth it! Also, one thing: do you guys like longer chapters like this one, or are they too hard to get into? _Please_ tell me, I'd appreciate it. Plus any other critiques/comments you have, click on that little button below! (: Thanks.


	7. Not Invincible

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 6, Not Invincible**

_Dominique's POV_

* * *

><p>I was sitting by the kitchen table, drawing patterns in the water left by the condensation from my glass, when a hooting sound from outside the window alerted me to the arrival of my doom.<p>

I immediately stood up, knocking the stool out from beneath me, my eyes fixed on the approaching owl. My hands clenched into fists, my stubby nails pressed so tightly into my palms that they seemed to be drawing blood. It was barely the crack of dawn, but already the world was awake, waves crashing quietly against the white sand, birds cawing in the brush, the sun wavering in the sky. My parents and Louis were asleep, however, and Victoire was over at Teddy's. Fantastic! I thought. Here's my chance to just snatch the envelope away and never show it to another living soul!

The owl flew through the open window and landed on the table with a clatter of claws. It ruffled its feathers up primly, casting me a disparaging look - could owls even look that way? - before lifting up its leg and offering me the parcel attached to it. My hands were shaking as I reached out to untie the letter, and it was a long moment before the knot finally came loose. I stepped quickly backwards, headed into the wall behind me, wanting to sink into the plaster and stone. I eyed the envelope in my hands with fear. I was not looking forward to this.

The owl took flight again, leaving me to my solitude. I gulped, my fingers trembling as I turned the envelope over and broke the Hogwarts seal.

Inside was a single slip of paper, such a tiny thing to decide so much of my destiny. I glanced over my shoulder, looking towards the stairs, but it was clear my family were still slumbering. Taking a deep breath, I reached inside the envelope and removed the parchment.

It took me a minute or so to realise my eyes were closed. I took another breath, then two more, just for good measure. I cautiously cracked open a single eyelid, and let my pupil fall upon the letter.

_ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS_

_Pass Grades: Outstanding (O) Exceeds Expectations (E) Acceptable (A)  
>Fail Grades: Poor (P) Dreadful (D) Troll (T)<em>

_DOMINIQUE APOLLINE WEASLEY HAS ACHIEVED:_

_Astronomy: A  
>Care of Magical Creatures: D<br>Charms: A  
>Defence Against the Dark Arts: A<br>Herbology: O  
>History of Magic: D<br>Muggle Studies: E  
>Potions: P<br>Transfiguration: A_

I let out the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. These results…they were so much more than what I had expected. Of course, I could never have dreamed to pass Care of Magical Creatures or History of Magic, but the Acceptable in both Transfiguration and Defence especially shocked me. I had thought I'd get, at most, a Poor…I'd even been anticipating a Troll! But looking down at that flimsy piece of parchment, I felt a huge glow of pride swell up in my chest as I drank in that small, black 'O'. I'd never been happier in my life… I wondered what Lysander had gotten. Just thinking of him intensified that burning feeling in my core, and I smiled. No doubt a pass in everything, for him, though I thought it highly unlikely he'd receive any Outstandings.

Hugging the letter to my chest, I called out to my parents. "Mum! Dad! My O.W.L. results are here!" I heard a yelp from upstairs, followed by a loud bang, then hurried footsteps as first my mother, beautiful even in her almost-diaphanous nightgown, then my father came careening down towards me.

"_Ma chérie!_ Oh, my dear, did you get ze marks 'oo wanted? _Laissez-moi voir!_" My mother gabbled on in French, and I just couldn't keep the smile of my face. Dad grinned too, gently easing my fingers away from the paper and bringing it up closer towards him. His grin became wider.

"Geez, Dom, that's amazing! An 'Outstanding' in Herbology! I'm so proud of you, kiddo!" My mother shrieked and snatched my results from Dad, scanning the page. She looked down at me - I was still a head shorter than her - and smiled too, her face positively glowing. I wished I could look that stunning when I've just gotten out of bed.

"_C'est génial!_ I cannot believe zis! Well done, _ma chérie_, wonderful."

Never before had my parents looked upon me so proudly, so happily. I felt like a bubble, fit to bursting with happiness. I took the parchment back from my mother and placed it back in the envelope. Dad busied himself with breakfast, boiling the kettle the Muggle way because he always said the food tasted that much better if prepared in the most non-magical fashion.

I sat down at the table across from my mother, who was pulling up her loose, silvery hair into a bun. She caught my eye and smiled again. I couldn't help but respond.

A mumbling sound from upstairs drew my attention, and my brother Louis came stumbling down the staircase. Holy Merlin…even in pyjamas he was handsome. I'd never really noticed it before, and seeing as though he was rather young I'd never really thought to look. But at fourteen years old, my brother was as stunning as a male as my mother and Vic were as females. Perhaps even more so. And, judging by the rumours I'd heard swirling around the school, Louis was putting his beauty to good use; well, at least, in his eyes, and the eyes of all the girls he'd been with. Godric, my younger brother was a complete rake; everybody at Hogwarts knew that. But he was a lovely person all the same, exactly the opposite of what you'd expect him to be. I smiled in his direction, and he squinted at me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I showed him the letter and he read it quickly, his eyes zooming over the parchment. Did I forget to mention my brother is also a complete nerd?

"A 'Dreadful' for History of Magic, Dom? I'm disappointed," he joked. Oh yeah, plus he's a huge history nut. I don't know how all that information stays in his brain, but guaranteed, when he takes his O.W.L. in the subject, he'll get a triple Outstanding. That probably doesn't even exist, but they'll invent it, just for him.

I poked my tongue out at Louis and he grinned tiredly. "Good job, Dom," he murmured sleepily, and then loped off towards Dad to snag something for breakfast.

I turned back towards my mother, about to begin a conversation regarding the warm weather, when a loud _crack_ from outside alerted me to the presence of my sister and her boyfriend. Sure enough, craning my head to look out the window, there was Victoire, her hair whipping around her face with the wind, her hand clutching Teddy Lupin's arm tightly. His hair was a shocking, eye-watering pink today, and I wondered why that was. Usually he went for turquoise.

I relaxed back into my seat, ready to tell Victoire that I had received an 'Outstanding' in Herbology, something which she could never have hoped for, when the door burst open and my sister entered, the biggest smile imaginable plastered across her face.

"I got my N.E.W.T.s!" she shouted to us all. "All 'Outstandings', every last one!" Her face was delighted, and when I turned to look at my parents, they, too, were ecstatic. They rushed forward, converging on my sister, showering her with praise.

My breakfast plate clattered to the floor with a bang, smashing into several pieces.

No words could describe how I felt. The bubble of happiness within me was gone, snuffed out, replaced by a deep, broiling jealousy that threatened to make me scream. I stood, suddenly, my chair joining my plate on the ground. No-one took any notice.

I grabbed my letter from Louis. "Dom," he began, his spoon halfway to his mouth, but I had turned away before he could continue. I raced up the stairs, two at a time, having to rely on my memory of the house because my eyesight was blurred by a million tears and my limbs felt numb beneath me and all the meanwhile I was breathing deeply, heavily, wondering _oh Merlin_ why am I her sister, why is this my family, why can I never be perfect because she always will be, and scrunching the paper up in my hand, because it didn't matter anymore, none of it mattered, because she was here and that was all that counted, and why would I never shine as bright as Victoire?

The door to my room slammed shut behind me. I bolted it through swimming tears, and then collapsed down onto my bed, pressing my face into the jacket beside me that smelled just like Lysander, because it was his and I'd borrowed it and now it was all I had to hold me tight.

After several long moments of sniffling and snuffling, I emerged, scrubbing my cheeks dry with my sleeve. I rubbed at my eyes until they were sore, and then I stood and walked over to the small mirror in my room, one I had only recently acquired and the only looking glass in the immediate vicinity of me. I looked and looked and looked, stared for some form of similarity between myself and the rest of my family; perhaps the curve of a cheekbone, here, or the smattering of freckles there…but no. I was nothing like them, nothing like any of them, not even my father with whom I shared my red hair. Because I was ugly and dumb, and he was not, because even though he had those scars, he was still beautiful; beautiful enough for my mother to love him.

I didn't think anyone could ever love me. Lysander said he did, but really, who was he kidding? Next to Mum and Vic and Louis, who was I but a weed growing in a garden bed of roses?

I turned away from the mirror, instead casting my eye about the rest of my room. A year ago today, all that would've been there were a couple of cracks in the pastel paint. But today, since Lysander owned a camera and loved mucking about with it, almost every inch of my room was covered with moving photographs. Some of them were nicely taken, well-thought out portraits. Others, meaning most of them, were experimental shots; and by that I mean side profiles, dress-ups, you name it. Lysander's Gryffindor friends certainly liked having fun.

I wandered over to the far wall. This one was my favourite; covered mainly with pictures of all my family, Nimueh and Lysander, it held more memories than I could remember. I smiled softly, reaching a hand up and brushing my thumb along the peeling corner of an especial preference of mine; me and Lysander kissing beneath the oak tree by the lake, holding hands and laughing all the while.

My eyes drifted over to the next photograph in line; Victoire at her Hogwarts graduation, arm in arm with her fifty thousand friends. The coiled up anger inside me flared out once more, and unable to stay quiet, I let out a small moan of pain. How could God make someone that incredibly perfect, leaving the unwanted, ugly spare parts to put together people like me? How could anyone be that cruel?

I walked stiffly over to my bedside table, lifting up a jewellery box that my sister had given me the year before. I ran a finger along its smooth contours, marvelling at its beauty…before I threw it against the wall and it splintered into smithereens. The necklace inside it fell out, rolling across the floor towards my foot. I knelt down to pick it up, gently cradling the crystal pendant in my palm, then slipped the chain over my head and under my shirt, where it nestled comfortably against my chest.

I looked down at the glassy shards littering the carpet, my anger not yet gone. I supposed it would be better to clean it up before someone got hurt… I knelt down to sweep up the rubbish, but a sharp pain at my fingertips alerted me to the fact that I was bleeding. I swore. _Bloody glass!_

I picked up the nearest object to me - a paperweight - and hurled that too. It hit the wall with a thump, leaving a sizeable dent. I didn't care one jot.

The tears came again, leaking out like water from a kettle. I couldn't ebb their flow, but nor did I want to give in to them; it would only make me more pathetic, more unworthy of everything good in the world.

Sitting there, curled up, I suddenly remembered something. I straightened, sniffling to try and clear my congested nostrils. _Of course…_ I stood and opened my wardrobe, rifling around in its depths before pulling out a small leather suitcase and slamming it down onto the bedspread.

At that moment came a frantic knocking.

I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming at the visitor to _go away! _Instead, I took my time in answering, straightening out the quilt on my bed before walking over to the door, taking a deep breath to compose myself, and unbolting the lock.

The door was flung wide the moment I stepped clear. In the threshold stood Victoire, looking thoroughly disgruntled, and Teddy, looking thoroughly apologetic and confused. But I couldn't take pity on him. Not on any of them, not right now. The thought of that one little 'O' compared to all of Victoire's made me clench my fists in fury.

My sister stalked inside. "What the _hell_, Dominique?" she whispered angrily, gesturing for Teddy to join her and then shutting the door behind them. "What do you think you're playing at?"

"Me?" I was incredulous. "I'm not the one who waltzed home, happy as dandy, not even _considering_ how other people might feel!"

"Not even considering? Dominique, how dare you! I thought of you every step of the way here, thank you very much-"

"Oh, you mean the two seconds it took to Apparate? Gee, Vic, I didn't know you cared!" I was incensed. How _dare_ her! Who did she think was?

"I want to know what the hell your problem is, running off like that-"

"Hmm, let me think, Victoire. Maybe it's to do with the fact everyone just completely ignored me and I really had nothing else to do?"

Victoire flared up. Her eyes flashed. "Don't you go playing the pity card on me, Dominique Apolline! Do you know how rude it was? All I wanted was to tell you how I went in my N.E.W.T.s-"

"All you wanted, Victoire?" I began hyperventilating. "All you wanted? Did you even think, for the tiniest moment, what everyone else wanted? What_ I_ wanted?"

"What you wanted? They're _my_ results, Dom, why would I think of _you_?"

"Because I got my O.W.L.s today, too, Victoire, a fact you seem to be _conveniently_ forgetting, and I don't appreciate you rubbing your success in my face!" This time, I didn't fight the tears; they came in a rush, a great river of rage, and I blubbered and gulped through them.

That brought my sister up short. She opened and closed her mouth several times before speaking. "Dom…I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know- I forgot-"

"_You forgot_…okay, yeah, that's fine, fine, totally and utterly _fucking_ fine!"

"Don't talk to me like that, Dominique, and I swear, I didn't know!"

"Well, even if you didn't, it's just like you to pop on over and tell everyone how _smart you are_, how _talented_, how _amazingly perfect and brilliant_ you are, isn't it? Do you even _know_ how you made me feel?"

"No, I don't, Dom, but I might if you just told me!"

"_Told you?_ You should've asked! You should've asked how I went years ago, years and years, but you didn't even bother, did you?" This wasn't just about today anymore. It was about everything between us, every hateful word, every vindictive pleasure.

"What are you _talking_ about, Dom?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Victoire. You know it, you knew from the moment I was born that you were better than me, and yet you never cease to rub it in, do you-"

"I'm not better than you, Dominique! How can you even think that, you _fucking bitch_, how can you even think I don't care?"

"Oh, you do care, Victoire, you care _just _enough to tell the whole world how flawed I am, don't you? You-"

Victoire bristled. Angry once more, she stood on the balls of her feet and looked down upon me. "You don't know what on earth you're talking about! I'm not perfect, in case you hadn't noticed-"

"Oh, believe me, I haven't. No-one has, because you are! I've dreamed about being you, Victoire, about being this _beautiful_ angel, instead of the piece of _shit_ I am-"

"That's enough!" Teddy's voice broke between me and my sister, deep and powerful. "I said that's enough, you two. Why don't we just sort this out sensibly-"

"Sensible, my ass, Teddy, stay out of this!" Victoire stepped in front of her boyfriend, looking so fierce even the bravest man would have quailed beneath her glare. But I was no man. "You think I'm a perfect angel? You think my life is something you want? You have no idea how hard it is to be me, to live like me-"

"How…_hard_?" Every word coming out of my mouth was dripping with the stain of disbelief. "Your life, Victoire, is not hard. You get everything you want, everything you ask for, and you think that's…hard?"

"Of course it is! You know nothing about expectations, Dominique. I have to live up to everything people have said I will be, because if I don't, then I'm nothing! Just a pretty face, Dom!"

"Well, at least you've got that, because believe me, I would _kill_ to look like you." A sob mutated the last word, and I closed my eyes tightly for a moment.

"Dominique!" Victoire looked genuinely appalled. "You're beautiful, too, you are! You-"

"You don't believe a word you're saying, do you?" My voice was barely a whisper. "I remember, Victoire. _'Just because she isn't at all pretty'_, wasn't it? That day in Hogsmeade?" I was shaking from head to toe. "You think you can solve everything, be everything, don't you? And I'm pretty sure you can. I- I wish, more than anything, that that could be me."

Victoire sat down heavily on my bed, next to the forgotten suitcase. "Well, it can't, Dom, because in case you hadn't noticed, life isn't fair-"

"My God, you think I don't know that? You think I don't know how shitty the world is? Well, memo to Victoire, I do. I live it every. Single. Day. Every fucking day isn't fair in my world, Vic. I don't need you to tell me that."

"I think you do, Dom, because if you think I chose this life, chose to be pretty-"

"Of course I don't! But you're pretty nonetheless, aren't you? And even if you didn't choose it, you enjoy it all the same, I know you do. And just because your name means 'victory'," I paused, shaking, "doesn't mean you always, _always_, have to win."

A pregnant pause followed my words. It filled up the small bedroom, turning into something almost tangible; a broken bond that could never be the same. Surprisingly, it was Teddy who finally shattered the silence that stretched between us. "What…" he said hesitantly. "What do you mean, Dom?"

I looked at him. "Pardon?"

Teddy shuffled his feet, looking highly uncomfortable. "I mean…how does Vic always win? I- I don't really…understand…"

Victoire turned towards me as well, looking expectant.

"How?" How could they not know? "She wins by existing, by just breathing the same air I do. She walks into the room, and suddenly I don't exist anymore." I took a deep breath. "I s'pose it's like comparing a candle to the sun, isn't it? It's obvious I'll never shine as bright as you, Vic, but that doesn't stop me from getting angry about it."

I looked down at my feet.

"You think that when I walk into a room, everyone just ignores you?" My sister's voice was so shocked, so disbelieving that I just had to look at her.

"Well…yeah."

Victoire made a _pshaw_ sound in the back of her throat. "When I walk in, Dom," she began slowly, "you walk out. Almost every time. At first we thought you were just rude, but then you weren't in any other situation and we finally figured out you were shy…but this? Are you _kidding_ me?"

I looked at Victoire in complete and utter astonishment. All this time, all these years…had I been wrong, all along?

"All I ever wanted was for us to be friends, Dom, but you never gave me that chance."

"I didn't think you'd care. I didn't think anyone cared."

Victoire laughed; a soft, low laugh that made me warm inside just hearing it. "Of course they did. Of course I cared." She sighed. "Did you think me a statue without feelings?"

I considered. "Something like that, I suppose. Something…indestructible."

"I'm not invincible, Dom. No-one is." Victoire gave me a small smile. "I'm just as imperfect as the rest of you."

"Imperfect…" I mused on the word. All my life had seen me shy away from the company of others, from the warmth and kindness of family, when it had all been unnecessary. All the disparaging glances, disapproving sniffs…they had all been in my head. According to Victoire and Teddy, that is…but what reason did they have to lie?

I scanned through the memories in my head. Some stood out so prominently from others that I just had to revisit them…

My eighth birthday party. Victoire had given me a present, a big pink feather boa, and was proceeding to wrap it around my neck. I was chatting contentedly to my father, when Victoire finished up with the boa, tying it into a knot and releasing it with a flourish. She turned to our father and began talking too. All of a sudden I had stood up and strode off, thinking that Victoire had been selfish and unkind. But looking back on it now…I realised that I'd been fooling myself then. Victoire hadn't stolen Dad away from me…I'd left them myself.

I picked another memory.

My first day at Hogwarts. I'd been kissing my parents goodbye on the platform when Victoire had come bounding off the train, thirteen-year-old dimples in full blast. She had raced up to us, seemingly pushed me out of the way and given our mother a hug… But she hadn't pushed me. I'd stepped to the side, walked away. I made room for her, just as I had always done.

Back in the present, I took a deep breath. They were right. Victoire had never stolen anyone away from me; I'd let her have them instead, on my own volition. But still…

Looking over at my sister, who was talking quietly to Teddy and shooting looks over at me every now and again, I couldn't shake the feeling that some part of me was right; that Victoire really did get all the attention, and that she enjoyed it. I recalled our conversation. _'How hard it is to be me'_… She had no idea! She knew nothing of what it was like to never say a word at a family meal, to have people send you disappointed looks when you failed an exam, to look at yourself in the mirror and hate what you saw…

No, I decided. Life really wasn't fair, in my case at least. And just because I'd been in the wrong all these years, doesn't mean she hasn't been either. I needed a break, some time and space to think everything over…

My eyes fell upon the discarded suitcase.

"Dom…? What are you doing?"

Half way through folding up my jeans, I glanced over my shoulder at Teddy. "Beg yours?"

"Um…" Teddy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, lifting up a hand to run it through his hair. The moment his skin made contact, his hair turned a dark brown, washing over the strands like a chocolate wave. "Well…you're packing. Why?"

I finished folding my jeans and set them down carefully in the suitcase. "I just need some time," I finally said, grabbing some pairs of shoes and adding them to my luggage.

"Time?" I looked up; Victoire sounded rather hysterical. "Time for what? Dominique, are you running away?"

I snorted. "Don't be stupid, Victoire. Of course not…like I said, I just need time."

"But…I told you _everything_. I explained-"

"I know you did." I threw in some shirts and slammed the suitcase closed, waiting for the click of the fastenings before I turned to my sister. I sighed. "I _know_, Victoire, I heard you. But…I'm just not ready to forgive you. Not yet."

"Forgive me? I didn't do anything, I told you!"

"I know, Victoire!" My voice had risen to a yell; I reined in my annoyance and swallowed. "I know you told me. But just because I've been wrong all these years," I said, lifting the case off of the bed, "doesn't mean you've been right." I walked past Victoire and Teddy, and opened my door. I looked back to them. "Feel free to see yourselves out," I said.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"To the Lovegood's," I answered, without glancing back. "Lysander said I could come over any time I wanted…and I guess now seems like a good time."

I stomped down the staircase, not because I was angry, but because my luggage weighed me down a little more than I wanted. My parents and Louis looked up at my entrance.

"Where are you going?" My mother's voice was uncommonly sharp.

"Lysander's. We arranged it ages ago, remember, Mum?" She paused in her haughty disdain, frowning.

"Oh…of course, yes. Do you need to send an owl beforehand, though, or…?"

"I already did," I lied. I just wanted to get out of there, and get straight to Lysander and bury myself in his arms. I resisted the urge to scream. "I'll just Floo myself out, shall I?"

Mum nodded jerkily, looking thoroughly confused, but I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed a handful of the Floo Powder from the little basin set into the wall, and climbed into the fireplace. Turning around to face my family, the last thing I saw before the green flames consumed me was my brother's slow wink. And then they were gone.

I was unceremoniously dumped out onto the flagstones at the Lovegood's home. Spluttering, and trying not to choke on the ash I had inhaled, I looked around me, and promptly blushed.

All four of the Lovegoods were sitting round the living room table, obviously having a happy family conversation. Lorcan's spoon was halfway to his mouth, his face frozen with an expression of horror - he'd never really liked me that much. Mr and Mrs Lovegood - or Rolf and Luna, as I called them - looked pleasantly surprised, but not angry. Quite the contrary, actually; Luna's face was broadening into a small, ditzy smile, her protuberant blue eyes giving me the once-over.

But the only person whom I longed to see was Lysander, and when I finally dared to look up at him from where I was sprawled on the floor, I almost laughed at the grin on his face.

He walked over to me and offered me his hand; I took it, and he heaved me up, brushing off the soot and grime left on me somewhat roughly. He grabbed my suitcase before I could protest.

"Er…hello," I said softly to his family, who all - with the exception of Lorcan, who was still petrified - smiled. They greeted me, and then went back to their meal. _Huh_, I thought. A little odd, but…_who cares?_ I followed Lysander down the winding corridor, getting lost with all the twists and turns within it. I'd never been to his house before, but he'd described it for me, so I knew the basics: it was all on one floor, and sprawled out like a great maze. Every room had a window, and there were also some doors that, when opened, led to the oddest places; the small black door near the kitchen opened into the back of the medicine cupboard, and the yellow door in Luna and Rolf's room led straight into a stone wall.

I remembered all this as Lysander led me towards his bedroom, and it was with mounting expectation that we entered the last room on the left off the long, long corridor. I stepped inside, and was assaulted with the scent of him; freshly turned autumn leaves, newly polished broomstick, and a faint whiff of Freshwater Plimpy soup, a delicacy he'd introduced to me last year and one I hadn't quite gotten used to.

Lysander dumped my suitcase on his bed, and then turned to me, his gaze scrutinising. I flushed even deeper. "Something's wrong," he decided. I shook my head, trying to look innocent. He advanced on me, coming so close I could've stuck my tongue out and licked him on the nose. "Yes, there is. Is it your O.W.L.s?" I blinked. With everything happening this morning, I had totally forgotten about them!

I found my voice. "No. There's nothing wrong, Lysander." Even to my ears, the reply sounded whiny and unconvincing.

"Tell me, Dom."

I sighed, and stepped back, pressing the heel of my hand into my eyes. "It's just Victoire, same as usual…" I looked up at him then, and with the full magnitude of those blue, blue eyes staring down at me, I cracked.

The tears came, softly at first and then to a point where they were almost painful. Lysander made a small sound in the back of his throat, and then gathered me tight in his arms and drew me down on the bed next to him. I sat in his lap, he stroking my hair, until I could speak.

"She came home this morning," I spoke in a hollow voice. "All 'Outstandings' in her N.E.W.T.s, would you believe? And of course, I was immediately forgotten…but then she came up to my room with Teddy and told me that, apparently, everything's been in my head! I'm not a victim; she is! She isn't perfect, life isn't fair, no-one's invincible!" I was hysterical now, and Lysander brought up a hand and placed it firmly over my mouth. I swallowed.

"Dominique," he said seriously. "I'll have to admit I didn't understand a word of that, but you know what? I don't want to." He looked dead straight at me. "I don't want to hear about Victoire this, Victoire that. There's a reason I fell in love with _you_, Dom." My heart constricted at the 'l' word. "It's because you're you, not Victoire, not your parents. You're Dominique Apolline Weasley and, right now, that's all that matters to me."

I stared at him incredulously. Could someone really be that kind, that helpful, that loving? I smiled a watery smile, slowly and softly at first, but one that got bigger and bigger and bigger. He smiled too, and leant closer, and suddenly we were kissing, and all that mattered in the world was Lysander's voice, his arms around me, the steady beat of his heart.

We were still kissing when the bedroom door banged tersely open and someone stood in the doorway, someone with curly blonde hair and blue eyes and who looked very, very mad.

Lysander and I jumped apart. "Lorcan!" he said in a shaky voice, standing.

Lorcan ignored me. "We need to talk, Lysander."

"Alright…shoot."

"Alone." Lorcan looked over at me, then, and his gaze was as cold as Lysander's was warm.

"Okay…I'll go, then…"

I quickly stood up from the bed, feeling the oddest sense of déjà vu, and brushed past Lorcan on my way out. I looked over my shoulder to see Lorcan advancing on his twin. They both looked angry, but then Lorcan kicked the door shut and I was greeted by solid wood.

I _harrumphed_ at the closed door, then turned and began making my slow, cautious way down the hallway, all the while wondering what on earth that was about. Of course, I knew about the tension between the brothers - after careful prodding Lysander had told me everything; the way they'd once been best friends, but once Sorted into different Houses they had drifted apart. Lysander hadn't mentioned the specifics, but I got the feeling that the split was certainly not mutual.

I turned my thoughts to Lorcan himself. Sure, he was just as handsome as his brother, but there was something off about his countenance that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was as if he was a chalk drawing, and someone had erased a crucial part of his image and forgotten to redraw it.

I ran through the facts. Lorcan was in Ravenclaw, was best friends with my cousin Lucy in the year below, and came first in quite a few of his subjects. I had never once heard him utter more than a sentence in one breath, and once I had supposed that we were similar in that way, and that perhaps we could be friends. But I had quickly realised he didn't want anything to do with me. I supposed I had ignored him ever since.

Not wanting to be disloyal to my boyfriend, but I could see how the brothers could have rubbed shoulders. Lysander was naturally domineering as a person, but there was a hidden confidence to Lorcan that I felt wary to underestimate. It seemed like the former, however, would always have the upper hand, and in some ways I felt I could relate to Lorcan; after all, Victoire effortlessly overshadowed me, and I could see why Lorcan was rather bitter. But, being the biased person I was, I felt it was rather naïve of him to think that he could change anything between them. _Naïve like you, you mean_, a little voice said inside my head. I ignored it.

But then I felt stupid, because that was probably not what the brothers were arguing about at all.

"Dominique, are you lost?"

An airy voice cut through my musings, and I came back to myself with a jolt, finding myself in the kitchen. Luna was alone in the room, staring at me rather bemusedly.

"Oh- oh no, Luna. Lorcan just wanted to have a chat with Sander, so…"

"So you left them to it. I understand."

I nodded cautiously, sitting down on the seat she was offering me. "Do you know anything about it? They both seemed rather angry."

Luna was silent for a long moment, preparing some tea for the both of us. She brought my cup over and sat down opposite me, taking a long sip of her drink before speaking. "I suppose," she said in her dreamy way. "I have been noticing an unusual amount of Wrackspurts floating around them lately, especially Lorcan." I blinked. Luna swallowed her tea. "But I find it's best to leave them to it. Interfering in arguments can often make them worse, you know, if not in the ways we always expect."

I took a long draught of my tea, and almost spat it back out again. The stuff was disgusting, but I swallowed it anyway. Luna, strangely, seemed to me like someone you didn't want to offend.

"But you know," she continued, "friends are the best kind of medicine. After all, they're the only people in your life you can choose, aren't they?"

"I- I s'pose…"

"Leave them to it, Dominique. There are some things you just shouldn't meddle with. And besides, Lysander's room is awfully infested with Nargles. I'd rather you not stay in there. One never knows the places a Nargle can zoom up into."

I spluttered into my tea. Luna stood up, placing her cup in the sink and turning to leave. Just before she did, however, she paused, and spoke. "Oh, and your sister means well, Dominique. She just has a hard time showing it."

And with that, Luna left, stranding me in the kitchen with a cold cup of tea.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and I turned to see Lysander walking over to me, an obviously fake smile plastered across his face. "What happened?" I asked, concerned.

"Oh, nothing, Dom. Just family stuff." He shot me a strained look. "Oh, is that Dirigible tea?" Without waiting for an answer, he snatched away my cup and finished the drink in one mouthful. His hand was shaking.

I wanted to ask him again what had happened, but seeing the hidden anger in his eyes, I decided against it. After all, like Luna had said, friends are the best kind of medicine, and maybe all that Lysander needed right now was a companion.

In any case, I knew now that none of us are perfect, that we all have a weakness. No-one can be invincible, and looking over at my boyfriend, I decided that both Luna and my sister were quite right.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Phew, it's finally up! This was written, people, in only two sittings - 3 hours of hardcore typing. Just a view things to point out to you: firstly, Lorcan Scamander. My friend _**rainbowpanda0's**_ fanfiction centres around him, and the whole Lorcan/Lysander fight scene will feature later in her story, so I thought it best to just leave the matter alone. After all, Dom can't know everything! Secondly, I referenced quite a few things in here: 'if not in the ways we always expect' is a line stolen from the OotP movie, but I thought is would suit this perfectly. There also 'but I was no man', which is a direct reference to Eowyn's badassness in the LotR RotK movie. And finally, 'left me to my solitude' which, most sadly, is an appropriated line from Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem _Frost at Midnight_…MY ENGLISH CLASSES HAVE POISONED MY BRAIN! Well, I think that's it, now…I hope this chapter lived up to expectations. Now onto Sixty Seven, for me! ((P.S. Please review, they mean the world to me!)) ((P.P.S. I FINALLY REFERENCED THE TITLE OF THIS STORY...TWICE! Can you guys spot them?))


	8. Picture This

**Shine As Bright**

**Chapter 7, Picture This **

_Dominique's POV_

* * *

><p><em>November, 2019<em>

_**Picture this: a lake in the autumn, a girl sleeping under the shade of an oak, and a boy sitting by her, a mischievous smile stretched across his face.**_

There's nothing like a slap in the face to stop you from daydreaming. Why? Because, A, it hurts a hell of a lot and makes you spend your time yelling at the offender instead of falling asleep in class, and B, the big purple bruise is an excellent fashion statement to make at school.

Right?

Well, it was sad to say that I spoke from firsthand experience on the matter. And _Merlin's pants_, did Lysander pack a mean punch, or what?

I sat up quickly, nursing the stinging circle of pain currently throbbing on my right cheek. Lysander was sitting next to me, twiddling his thumbs and looking for all the world as if he didn't just slug me. But I knew better. "Excuse me?" I said, narrowing my eyes and brushing the grass from my creased skirt. "Have you gone absolutely bonkers?"

Lysander looked across at me, smiling the smile of someone who knows they're about to get caught out. "'Course not, Dom," he grinned. "Why would you think that?"

I stood, relishing the height advantage it gave me, because usually I was about a head shorter than everyone else in this Godric-damn school. "Oh, I dunno," I said, faking innocence. "Maybe…"

I was deliberating whether or not to give him a taste of his own medicine (whack him back really, really hard) or act with 'feminine grace' - as my mother would say - and ignore the slight. I was leaning towards the former, and besides, it wouldn't make much of a difference since I hit him anyway about twice on a daily basis.

Lysander seemed to anticipate my decision, because in the split second before I raised my hand, he jumped to his feet, grabbed my waist and pulled me flush up against him, pressing a hard kiss against my mouth. "Mmph," I said, making a token protest of smacking him lightly on the arm, but in all honesty, I didn't want him to stop. I smiled into the kiss.

Lysander loosened his grip slightly, and brought his lips away from mine, our foreheads leaning against each other's. I grinned into his protuberant blue eyes, which were lazily lidded like a cat's. The image made me feel a certain prickly sensation in my skin that I only felt when I was with Lysander. He smiled back at me. "I love you, Dom."

Merlin, I never tired of hearing that. To even think that someone this…this _perfect _loved _me_…well, the mere utterance of the words was always a cause for celebration. "I love you, too."

Lysander stepped back from our embrace, letting me sway slightly for a moment as his support disappeared. "Steady," he whispered, and there was something in his glance that made my throat seize up, that made me want to pull him towards me again and mash his lips against mine in the way that only our lips could, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together. "Lysander," I began, needing to tell him what I was feeling, but unable to speak because of the strange obstruction in my throat. He hushed me, leaning in ever so slowly, closer, closer…

I closed my eyes, and the next second, I felt the tiniest peck of his lips on mine before a whoosh of air and a cackle of laughter rang through my ears. My eyes snapped open to find Lysander jogging backwards away from me, grinning from ear to ear. "Catch me if you can!" he taunted, turned, and took off at a full sprint.

"What? You bastard, Lysander Scamander! Come back here right now!" I yelled, unable to control the laughter bubbling up inside of me, then shucking off my sandals and racing after him, my sights set on his wild tangles of blonde curls.

I'd never been a good runner. There was something about the way you had to get one foot quickly out of the road before placing down the other that stumped me, and as always in those situations, my left foot kicked against the heel of my right and sent me flying round the corner, headlong into two people walking in the opposite direction. I smacked into someone's shoulder, bounced off into someone else's stomach, and rolled to the floor, winded.

A wheezing sound above me brought the world back into focus and I blinked dizzily for a few seconds before shakily getting to my feet. "Are you all right?" I asked, turning on the spot to find the victims of my collision. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

I stopped short, startled by the sight of my boyfriend's twin brother and my crazy cousin standing in front of me, the former looking disgruntled and the latter amused. "Er…" I began. "Sorry, Lucy, Lorcan. I was just- just, um…just looking for Lysander… Did you, er, see…?" I trailed off at the flash of anger in Lorcan's eyes. I thought back to two summers ago at the end of fifth year, when I had stayed over the Lovegood's house and had noticed the clear tension between the brothers. I remembered the argument they'd had on a subject I hadn't been privy to, and frowned. This was obviously something that had to be sorted out.

"Lorcan," I began again, trying to inject as much authority as I could into my voice this time. To be honest, I usually shied away from conversations like this, where I had to be the confident voice, because I wasn't really a confident person and I hated pretending to be something I wasn't.

Just as I was about to ignore that little voice inside of me yelling _'stop, Dominique, you can't tell him off for something you don't know about', _a figure leapt out from the shadows and pounced on me, wrapping strong arms around my waist and squeezing me tight. It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head, and I punched the arms clutching me, indicating that _yes_, I do need to breathe once in a while.

Lysander - because of course they were his muscled arms - laughed, letting go of me and stepping out where I could see him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he noticed the two people standing right behind him. Whirling, Lysander froze at the sight of his brother, and I shrank away from the anger that etched itself into every facet of his beautiful face.

"Excuse me," Lysander said through gritted teeth, his voice like a sudden blizzard after days of summer. "What do you think you're doing, Lorc?"

I saw Lorcan twinge at the comment, though I wasn't sure whether it was for the words themselves or the way they were spoken. "Walking," he answered, staring his brother straight in the face. "It's not against the law, is it, now?" Next to Lorcan, Lucy's eyes widened in shock and darted from brother to brother. I sent her a questioning look. She mouthed the word _'Nargles'_. I bit back an exasperated sigh.

"Don't be stupid," Lysander snapped.

"If I remember correctly, you're the stupid one, Lysander." The moment the words passed Lorcan's lips, I could tell he regretted them. A look of surprise flitted over his sculptural features, and he grimaced slightly. Lysander, of course, being the macho man that he was, didn't notice, only puffed his chest out and stood in front of me protectively. Like I needed protecting!

I pushed my boyfriend aside harshly, and Lysander staggered, staring at me. "Just stop it! You're behaving like fucking children; you know that, don't you?" The twins blinked in perfect unison, and I repressed a scream of frustration. How can two people be so _bloody _similar, and yet so different? "You do know that you're both graduating this year, right? You're _seventeen_, for Merlin's sakes! It's time for the both of you to just grow the fuck up!"

"Er…" Lorcan trailed off, staring at me as if I'd stepped off another planet. I blushed at his gaze; I wasn't used to giving outbursts like that, and it was really quite annoying when people became surprised by them. It wasn't like I never had an opinion…it's just I rarely ever voiced it. His glance switched to Lysander for a brief moment, and I saw uncertainty in his eyes. Righto, I decided. Time to take some serious action.

"Come on, Luce." I grabbed my cousin by the arm and pulled her to my side. "We're going walking," I said, gesturing to myself and Lucy. "And you're going to have a nice long chat to sort everything out, all right?" Lorcan nodded slowly. "All right, Lysander?" I glared at him, and he gave me a sheepish smile. "Right, then. Off you go! We'll be by the lake if you decide to settle things. Ta-ta!" I dragged Lucy bodily out of the way. We rounded the corner and, after a last look over my shoulder at the two brothers, standing together awkwardly, were alone.

I dropped Lucy's arm quickly. I knew she was sort of weird about touchy-feely things, so I decided to just play it safe. I smiled at her. "How'd your O.W.L.s go, Lu? I don't think I heard about them." I had heard, but I needed some way to begin conversation. Lucy gave me a strange look, as if she knew that I knew her results, but she told me anyway. All 'O's and 'E's. I grinned. "That's awesome! Uncle Percy must've been pleased!"

Lucy shrugged. "Yeah, he was. Molly wasn't too happy though." She looked at me with solemn eyes. "She didn't get any 'O's in her O.W.L.s when she was my age, and I think she was a little jealous." We walked on towards the lake for a while, silence reigning between us. Finally, Lucy continued. "But I've been seeing a lot of Wrackspurts floating around Molly lately, so that might have had something to do with it." I nodded in agreement. It was strange that Lucy, who had a practical wizarding father and a Muggle, albeit creative, mother, would believe in all that nonsense Luna spouted out, but then again, after hanging with Luna and the Scamanders over the past few holidays, my mind had begun to open to all manner of new things. Maybe Audrey, who was usually ready to believe anything after finding out about the wizarding world, had helped Lucy to believe in things like Nargles and Wrackspurts and Crumple Horned Snorkacks. I wouldn't put it past her; my aunt Audrey was a small, absentminded woman who could make anyone smile, even when they were having a crap day. That, I knew by experience.

Lucy and I reached the lake. We sat down, side by side, my cousin kicking off her shoes and dipping her feet into the chilly autumn water. I watched her for a while, studying the soft brown curls of her hair, and the galaxy of freckles that mapped her pale, pointed face - rather like my own, I realised with a jolt. In fact, on closer examination, I found millions of similarities between the two of us. Her nose was shaped like a small Muggle ski-jump, like her father's, whose nose was like _my_ father's, and which mine obviously took after. Her eyes were clearly her mother's - big and round and innocent - but their lashes were almost a facsimile of mine, their only difference being brown instead of red. _Weird…_I thought. We look related…actually, honestly related! I felt ashamed that I'd never noticed before - that I'd been too busy wallowing in self-pity to take in the world around me.

The silence grew from comfortable to pregnant. I cleared my throat, searching for something to say, when there was a sound of footsteps from behind me. I turned around slowly to see Lorcan and Lysander walking over together, talking and laughing like best mates. I blinked in confusion. Sure, I'd wanted them to sort things out…but I never imagined it happening so quickly! I stood, and Lucy, after a moment of bewilderment and wondering what I was doing, quickly followed. We met the boys halfway. Lorcan looked to the ground when I met his gaze, but Lysander just stared back at me, defiant and confident with a glint of mischief in his wide blue eyes.

"Well?" I demanded.

Lorcan shuffled his feet sheepishly. I raised my eyebrows at my boyfriend, demanding an answer. "Yeah…" he began. "It's all good, now, I s'pose…yeah, it's fine. Great!" I narrowed my gaze, but he seemed to be telling the truth. Well, I thought. Wonders never will cease, will they?

"Great!" I echoed, my smile widening. "Glad you sorted that out. Now, is anyone else hungry? Because I missed breakfast this morning and I feel like there's a little monster inside of me eating up my innards, one by one." Lorcan blinked at me, obviously unsure whether or not I was joking, but Lysander and Lucy both snorted. "Come on, then!" I said, walking up ahead and gesturing impatiently for them to join me. "Just because you've sorted everything out doesn't mean I won't be able to find a reason to be angry with you, and you _know_ I don't want to do that." The three of them hurried to join me, Lucy skipping hand-in-hand with Lorcan, who was performing an odd walk-hop to keep up with her. I was surprised at their intimacy, and then chided myself. They've been friends for years, I thought. Obviously they were going to end up together, and it's better sooner than later!

I stepped inside the sunlit corridors of Hogwarts, headed for the Great Hall, my friends only a step behind me. Maybe everything will work out, I thought gladly. Maybe we _will_ get a happily ever after, after all.

_**And there is a picture, a picture of repair, of cracks that are healed, of a girl who is smiling, and of two brothers, friends once more.**_

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><p><em>March, 2020<em>

_**Picture this: a shadowed room, curtains pulled back against a four poster bed, the sheets rumpled, and a sleeping girl beneath them. The clock ticks five fifteen.**_

I woke groggily with my head planted firmly against several open Potions books. I blinked blearily, the world slowly coming into focus. I noticed the absence of anything else around me; all was still.

I sat up, the pages of the book I had been sleeping on sticking to my cheeks like that Muggle flypaper my grandfather is so fascinated by. I peeled off the pages, grimacing at the smacking sound they made once ripped completely free. Standing, I glanced around. I was in the Hufflepuff common room, and the watch on my wrist told me it was barely five fifteen in the morning. I sighed and stretched, unable to think about going back to sleep again, because I had suddenly remembered what today was: March 18. My eighteenth birthday.

I smiled slightly to myself, pleased. Of course, my last birthday, my seventeenth, was the big one, the one everyone who was anyone waited for, but somehow, being eighteen years old felt a lot more dignified, wise, enjoyable…just better.

I walked over to the last round door on the left embedded into the wall of our common room and pushed it open. Tiptoeing inside, I made my way over to my trunk and opened it, pulling out the rumpled blouse, tie and black jeans that were my uniform, along with fresh underwear. I raced into the bathroom, turning on the hot water in the shower as quickly as I could; the tiles beneath my feet were ice cold. I ducked under the stream of water, running my fingers through my shorn hair with ease. No knots today.

After a few minutes, I switched the taps off and grabbed my towel, rubbing myself down thoroughly before donning today's clothes. I looked in the mirror, smoothing out the creased shirt as much as possible and straightening my yellow and black striped tie until I looked at least a tiny bit respectable. I then picked up my dirty washing and headed back into the dorm, dumping the old clothes under my bed and pulling on my boots. I laced them up and opened my trunk again; grabbing the books I'd need for today's subjects. Thus prepared, I stuffed the essentials into my dragon skin bag and, slinging it over my shoulder, I left.

The common room was still empty, the yellow flames of the fire still crackling merrily. I shot a happy glance at the abundance of greenery lining the back of the room, and then dropped to my knees to crawl out the tunnel entrance.

I was the only person up and about the stone corridors, and it was slightly spooky making my way past rickety suits of armour, delicate woven tapestries that moved in an invisible breeze, marble busts of long-dead wizards and portraits whose eyes followed my every move, and some who even jumped up to try and start a conversation. I kept walking.

I reached the Great Hall in next to no time, but instead of pushing open the doors and entering, I turned I the opposite direction, headed for the Owlery. It was too early to eat, anyway, at five forty-five on a Wednesday morning. I reached the open planned room and grinned at the softly hooting birds that surrounded my. I spotted my cousin James' Arabella, a large spotted owl with tufted ears and a smiling beak. She watched me with a familiar ease.

There were benches along the walls of the Owlery, and I gladly sat down on the closest, removing my bag from my shoulder and setting in on the ground. I yawned, not really tired but just bored, discontent to watch the owls fluttering in through the open windows. Strange, I thought. Usually I liked the solitude here, but today I just felt restless, unnerved; I realised that, more than anything else, I just wanted to curl up next to Lysander and have a nice long chat. I sighed longingly. That was certainly a disadvantage of having a boyfriend Sorted into another house; it was difficult to meet up together at hours other than the usual 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. Ah, well.

I got up from my seat, hands on hips, wondering how to kill time. I decided to head over to the Great Hall after all, just for something to do. Shouldering my bag again, I waved goodbye to the parliament of owls behind me and walked out of the room. I took my time to get to the Hall, not wanting to hurry and be the first one there.

Outside the door of the Hall, I checked my watch again. Ten past six. I raised my hand to the door, wanting to push it open, but something held me back for the slightest moment. A feeling, maybe, that something special was about to happen. I gave a shrug, straightened my shoulders, and shoved the heavy oak forward.

For the tiniest moment after I made my entrance, there was silence. I took in the twenty or so people gathered around the Hufflepuff table, their faces all turned to me, and I was just able to register the thought that _wait, this isn't right_, when everyone inside took a simultaneous deep breath and roared, "Happy Birthday!"

I laughed in delight. Amongst the throng were all my cousins still at Hogwarts - Fred, Lucy, Louis, James, Rose, Albus, Hugo and Lily - and all my friends - Lorcan, Nimueh, Holly from the year below, and all my dorm mates who must've noticed me gone from my bed and told everybody else. At the forefront of the crowd was, of course, Lysander, grinning from ear to ear and holding up a golden wrapped box tied with red ribbon.

I walked over in a sort of trance, unable to stop smiling. Lysander greeted me with a peck on the lips and a fierce hug, then thrust the present into my hands. I stared at it for a moment, then began to untie the bow, wondering what on earth could make my boyfriend so damn excited.

The wrapping fell away and I held in my hands a Muggle jewellery box, complete with the logo and everything. I gave my friends a bewildered look, and then opened the lid. Nestled inside amongst a roll of silk was a shining silver bracelet, complete with seven dangling charms. I lifted it up for a closer look. The first charm was a rose, complete with thorny stem and leaves. After that was something that looked suspiciously like a Dirigible plum, and a little Hufflepuff crest embedded in a silver shield. I smiled.

The next charms were a barely open little book, a pair of small round glasses, and a jagged shard that took me a moment to realise was a broken plate. I flicked my gaze up to my brother, Louis, and he shrugged. _Busted._

The final dangling charm was smaller than the others, and delicate. I lifted it up to my eyes with my pinkie and thumb, careful not to snap it. It was a tiny sphere of silver cobweb, with a small silver-grey ball inside that matched the colour of my eyes exactly. When I shook it, it made the sweetest tinkling sound I had heard in my eighteen years alive.

I looked up to all my friends. "How-?" I asked, unable to comprehend their generosity. Fred piped up. "We all pitched in some money, which grandad converted into Muggle pounds, and then we bought you this! It's totally fabulous, I know." His voice was laughing along with his eyes, and Nimueh next to him grinned too, their arms around one another. I couldn't help but smile. I loved them both so much. I loved them _all_, so, so much.

Lysander stepped forward and fastened the bracelet around my wrist, his eyes never leaving mine. He leant closer, his face so near I could feel the soft exhale of his breath on my forehead. It smelt like Dirigible tea. "This is your happily ever after, Dom," he whispered, bending down so our lips were level. "Enjoy it."

He closed the distance between us.

_**And there is a picture, a picture of love, of kisses and family and of two teenagers, a boy and a girl, lips entwined, forging their happily ever after together.**_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This…is far different to what I expected this chapter to turn out like. I know it's WAY shorter, but to be honest, I'm a little disenchanted by it now. I'm so sorry for the super long wait, but hopefully this was a little different and exciting and a soppy, fluffy happy ever after for Lysander and Dom! BUT THERE WILL BE ONE MORE CHAPTER. An epilogue, of sorts. I'm predicting about 1000 words, so stay tuned!


	9. Epilogue, Toujours et Toujours

**Shine As Bright**

**Epilogue, ****Toujours et Toujours**

_Dominique's POV_

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><p>Dancing feet across a tiled floor. Orange hair tied up in plaits. Meeting and greeting the guests, because the ceremony was over and that's what I had to do.<p>

Ice cubes dunked into glasses of Firewhiskey. Niceties were exchanged, for once the remarks of _'how beautiful'_ and _'centre of attention'_ ringing true for me. I wasn't sure how or why so many people turned up - surely I wasn't this popular at school - but it's a pleasant feeling, knowing I was this loved.

Quiet descended on the room as Lorcan stood up for his speech, looking about the crowd with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, at all of us standing still as the statues on the Hogwarts grounds, standing still beneath a purple and white striped pavilion. Under a star spangled sky. Everyone present waited with bated breath, waiting for the best man to speak and to blow them all away.

And Lysander caught my eye, grinning.

And I felt an insatiable hunger because I hadn't had the chance to eat.

And Lorcan cleared his throat, and I focused.

_Focus_.

"_Toujours et toujours_," Lorcan began, his awful British accent mangling the language I grew up with. I stifled a smile. "Forever and always. Always and forever. Nothing else can describe how happy I am for my brother," at this Lorcan toasted Lysander, "To be marrying such a wonderful woman as Dominique Apolline." A sigh followed, echoed amongst the gathering. I spotted my mother in the crowd, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "They've been together since Hogwarts, and even though their differences are astronomical, to say the least," Lorcan paused, signalling the crowd to chuckle. We did. "I've never met a couple so suited to each other. Dom and Lysander compliment one another in every way, and I couldn't ask for a better match. No-one could."

Lorcan turned to me, and it's with annoyance that I felt my eyes pricking with tears of my own. I grinned to hide them. "Welcome to the family, Dom," he smiled. "We're so, so lucky to have you." He sat down to raucous applause, blushing and grinning from ear to ear.

The dancing then began anew, with not a single person left sitting alone. Everyone was on their feet. I saw Teddy and Victoire, his hands gently resting on her swollen belly, swaying to the music and looking into each other's eyes. His curls were gold for the occasion. Mum and Dad were close-by, her hair more silver than blonde these days, his scars slightly wrinkled with age. Harry and Ginny were there too, his eyes not leaving her for a single moment, and on her face was that beautiful blazing look she only gets when gazing at her husband.

And I was searching for Lysander, but he wasn't anywhere I could see. It's disappointing, but I supposed he was caught up with other guests.

It was then a hand slipped over my eyes, cradling my cheek, and I heard a familiar laugh, feeling the rumble it made against my spine. I spun around quickly and came face to face with Lysander.

_Merlin_, he was beautiful. And now he was my husband.

"May I have this dance, Mrs Scamander?" he murmured, brushing his lips against my outstretched hand. I blushed, nodding my consent. He swept me onto the dance floor, the crowd parting seamlessly for us, like the Muggle story I'd once read about Moses and the Red Sea.

Lysander stared into my eyes; smiling that smile that made my knees go weak and my tongue feel as heavy as bricks. "You know," he said, "Seeing as today is our wedding…that would mean that later…it's our wedding night. And you know what that means, Dom." _No, no, no I don't,_ I wanted to say, to sound coy, to have him explain it for me and have my cheeks heat red with blush which he would then pronounce _'simply adorable'_ and then he would proceed to kiss me. Damn my flippant mouth, however, because I simply ducked my head and said I did. Even with him as my husband now, I still got embarrassed around Lysander, and it was something I couldn't control.

"Right then," he whispered even quieter than before, "I suppose it's something to look forward to."

And he was looking at me and I was looking at him and it was the happiest I'd ever felt in my life.

_Toujours et toujours_. Forever and always. Always and forever.

Until the end of time.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> IT'S FINISHED. I just wanted to whip this up, so after an hour's hard work…here it is. Special thanks to my many awesome reviewers: **rainbowpanda0**, **ScottishTimeLady**, **blissfulme**, **MissVenusVixen**, **chocolate fish** and **theweirdowithnoname**. I couldn't have done it without you all. As a final favour, read and review? Eternally grateful, Elizabeth. Xoxo.

**P.S.** I included some tricky wordplay in the first and last few paragraphs. Anyone pick up on it? (:


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